


Second Year: Twelve year olds are people too

by DominusMortis



Series: Harry Potter and Why He Should Never Be Left Unsupervised [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, F/M, Fluff, I don't know how to write tags, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Massive time skip cus I'm lazy, Oh so is Parseltongue, Rewrite, Sarah is a good friend, Sarcasm is their language, Sass, So is Hermione, Still follows storyline, The feelings are beginning, enjoy?, petrification, please, second in series, they're growing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24977626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DominusMortis/pseuds/DominusMortis
Summary: Sarah and Draco are back at it again for their second year at Hogwarts. But what awaits them ends up being much more than either of them signed up for, and of course, Harry is right in the thick of it. If they roll their eyes any harder they'll fall right out.Again: All works belong to J.K Rowling, only original scenes and characters are my own but they should be pretty obvious.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Harry Potter and Why He Should Never Be Left Unsupervised [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789387
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> And we are back. It's been longer than I planned but the fourth one is currently in progress - this means you get the second one! Be prepared for more snark and good slytherins because they are babies and need to be loved.

“Sarah! Wake up! We’re leaving soon!”

Sarah groaned and buried her head further into the pillow.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs before the door slammed open.

“Oh for goodness sake!” A sharp tug pulled the comforter roughly off Sarah’s prone form.

“OI!” She shouted, curling up into a tight ball, stubbornly keeping her eyes closed.

“Come _on_!” Hermione’s voice was shrill in the early morning atmosphere and Sarah was having none of it.

“Draco will be arriving in ten minutes and I _know_ you don’t want me to have to send him up here,” Hermione continued, pulling clothes out for Sarah to wear.

Sarah groaned again but sat up, a yawn bursting from her as she wiped her eyes drowsily.

“Where are we going to go today?” Sarah asked, barely getting the words out before slumping back against the spare bed in Hermione’s room.

She had been staying there for the past three days, going out into muggle London with Hermione and her family, exploring all the sights without the pressure of her father’s expectations hanging over her head. She hadn’t really had a close female friend while growing up – and while Draco was more than willing to embrace his feminine side, he was no Hermione.

“We’re going shopping for clothes for Draco. I know you’ve already got some but mum and dad have given me some money so we can get you some more,” said Hermione.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I still have the money that Narcissa exchanged for me at Gringotts – your parents don’t have to give me any,” retorted Sarah, quickly changing into the clothes Hermione had laid out.

“Well we can get something to eat then,” Hermione replied dismissively. “My parents love that I’m having friends over – I never did it before Hogwarts. Also, have you seen my cream shirt?”

Sarah’s reply was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. The girls exchanged bright smiles before grabbing the last of their things and running downstairs. Mrs Granger had opened the door to reveal Narcissa and Draco, dressed impeccably in the clothes that Sarah had sent to him the day before so he wouldn’t wear robes.

“Draco!” Sarah cried, throwing herself at the blond boy.

He beamed and hugged her tightly before accepting Hermione’s welcoming hug. Narcissa was conversing politely with Hermione’s parents, still slightly tense in the presence of muggles.

Lucius was currently away for work which meant that Draco was free to explore muggle London with them without worrying about his father’s reaction.

“You have a lovely home, Mr and Mrs Granger,” Draco said. Sarah scoffed silently at him; years’ worth of etiquette lessons shining through his gleaming smile.

Hermione’s parents were easily won over; they praised Draco for being ‘ _such a polite young man’_. Narcissa bid them goodbye after reminding them that she would return later tonight to take both Sarah and Draco home.

Hermione’s parents ushered the three children into their moving death box – ”A _car_ , Sarah, _honestly_ ” – and after what felt like no time at all, they were pulling up into the parking lot of a massive shopping centre.

“We’ll be wandering around. Meet us back here at two o’clock,” said Mrs Granger. She handed Hermione her cell phone and some cash. “You guys can get yourself some lunch if you want. Have fun!”

They walked away with small waves at the trio.

“Come on, let’s go shopping!” Sarah cried, grabbing Hermione and Draco by the arm and dragging them to the nearest shop.

They spent the next few hours rummaging through racks of clothes and gradually gaining quite a collection of muggle clothes for Draco and Sarah.

“Have you heard from Harry at all, Hermione?” Draco asked as he casually flicked through a book. Hermione had dragged them into a large bookstore and was currently sitting on the floor surrounded by a growing pile of books.

Sarah looked up from where she was draped over a low-set couch in the corner and shook her head.

“I asked her when I arrived. He hasn’t replied to any of her letters either,” she said.

Draco frowned. “Do you think he’s okay?” he asked quietly, eyes trained on the book.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione said cautiously. “Ron mentioned in his letter that he and his brothers were going to check him in a few days if he didn’t reply soon.”

Sarah sat up suddenly. “We should go with them.”

“ _What_?”

Draco stared at her in shock.

“We should ask Ron if we can go with him,” she repeated.

“ _How_?”

“Well sending a letter may help,” Sarah replied dryly.

“Sarah…”

“I’m serious, Draco!” Sarah leant forward and rested her arms on her thighs. “We should talk to Ron. I want to check up on Harry.”

Draco looked at her in silence, contemplating his options.

“We should write a letter to Ron when we get back to my place,” Hermione offered, still focused on her pile of books.

Draco finally nodded and put the book down. “How much time do we have before we need to meet your parents?”

Hermione looked at the clock on the far wall. “About an hour.”

“I’m hungry. Food?” Sarah asked, standing from the couch and stretching her arms.

Hermione grumbled but with a bit of extra pushing from Draco and Sarah, she chose a handful of books to purchase.

When they arrived back at the Granger’s house, the trio thanked Hermione’s parents before racing up to Hermione’s room.

They wrote a letter to Ron which Draco and Sarah would send with one of the Manor’s owls later in the day.

A few hours later, Narcissa arrived to take them home.

“Write to me as soon as Ron replies,” Hermione demanded, squeezing Sarah and then Draco in tight hugs.

“Promise,” said Sarah.

When they arrived back at the Manor, they immediately rushed to the owlery to send off Ron’s letter.

“Oh, I hope Harry is okay,” Sarah muttered as they watched the owl fly into the horizon.

***

Ron’s reply came early the next morning.

_Sarah, Draco_

_Mum said you guys can come over today or tomorrow if you want and can stay for the rest of the holidays._

_Fred, George and I have a plan to get Harry from the Dursley’s. I’ll tell you when you get here._

_Send me a letter back as soon as you can. We have Floo access – just say ‘The Burrow’._

_Hear from you soon,_

_Ron_

Draco raced from the room, pulling Sarah after him.

“Mother!” he called as he waltzed into Narcissa’s study.

Narcissa was sitting daintily upon a chaise lounge, book in hand and tea tray on the table before her. She raised a delicate eyebrow in question and calmly placed her book down beside her.

“What can I do for you two?” she asked.

“Mother, may we go to Ron’s house for the remainder of the summer?” said Draco.

“Have his parents given their approval?” Narcissa inquired.

“Yes, Mrs Weasley offered,” Sarah voiced hopefully. “So…may we go? Please?”

Narcissa eyed them silently before smiling softly.

“Well, considering that you both have completed your holiday work, I do not see why you cannot stay at the Weasley’s,” Narcissa said. “Get Dobby to pack your trunks while you send your confirmation.”

“Thank you, Mother!”

“Thank you, Narcissa!”

Their words overlapped as Sarah and Draco both leapt forward to hug Narcissa, who laughed softly before hugging them back.

“Do not forget to be on your best behaviour,” she reminded as they ran out of the room.

Draco sent a reply back to Ron while Sarah helped Dobby back their trunks.

An hour later, Sarah tumbled out of the fireplace into The Burrow’s living room with the grace of a newborn giraffe. Ron’s laughing face greeted her as he helped her off the floor.

Draco stepped through behind her with a wide smile.

“Don’t say anything,” Sarah hissed in warning.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Draco replied with a shit-eating grin.

Sarah scoffed in disbelief and hugged Ron.

“It’s good to see you two,” he said, clapping Draco on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to mum.”

The Burrow was everything the Manor was not. Objects cluttered every available surface. The furniture was well-worn and sagging, placed haphazardly around the large room. Young red-haired children waved gleefully from pictures on the walls as Ron led the pair toward the kitchen.

Mrs Weasley was a plump, kindly-looking woman. She was bustling around the kitchen, waving her wand in complicated motions. Knives, bowls and food flew through the air in a whirlwind of motion.

“Mum, Sarah and Draco are here!” Ron announced.

Mrs Weasley whipped around and beamed at the children.

“Oh hello, dears!” she said, waving her wand once more before hurrying over to embrace Sarah. “It’s lovely to meet you two, Ron has told me so much about you!” She released Sarah and pulled Draco in for a hug. His eyes went wide in surprise.

“Mum, stop smothering them,” Ron groaned, reaching for a pastry on the table.

“Ronald! Wait for lunch!” Mrs Weasley snapped, slapping Ron’s hand away from the food.

He groaned again and began dragging Sarah and Draco away.

“Come on, let’s go see the others,” he said.

Fred and George were in the backyard practising moves for Quidditch while a small, red-haired girl sat and cheered for them.

“Ginny, this is Sarah and Draco,” Ron said once they got outside.

Ginny was quite lively once she got talking. She spoke about everything and anything, asking question after question about Hogwarts, lessons, common rooms.

“What’s the Slytherin common room like? Is it true you went into the Forbidden Forest? Are you really friends with Harry Potter? What’s he like?” Ginny barely drew breath before Ron finally shouted at her to shut up.

“Ron, don’t be rude,” Sarah admonished. “The Slytherin common room is quite cosy; yes, we went in the Forbidden Forest, I would not recommend it; yes, we are friends with Harry, he’s very nice,” Sarah listed.

Ginny blushed and asked shyly, “Do you think you could introduce me to him?”

Sarah suddenly realised: Ginny had a _crush_ on Harry. Sarah glanced at Draco who suddenly looked as if he had just eaten something sour.

“Of course we can introduce you to him,” she promised. She didn’t want to hurt Ginny but she also didn’t want to hurt Draco.

Before anyone could say anything, Mrs Weasley called for lunch.

***

That evening found Ron, Draco, Sarah, Fred and George all huddled in the twins’ room.

“Harry still hasn’t replied. We need to go get him,” Fred said.

“How do we do that?” Draco asked.

“Dad has a car that he’s charmed to fly – ” George started.

“ – We thought we would leave once everyone’s gone to bed and then bring Harry back here before they wake up,” finished Fred.

“There’s no way that will work,” Sarah disagreed. “Even if it did work, how would you explain to your parents how Harry got here?”

“Er – well we were just going to wing it,” Ron muttered.

“Gryffindors,” Draco whispered, shaking his head.

“Well, what do you think we should do?” Ron asked angrily,

“Calm down, Ronnikins, they have a point,” George said.

“I say we leave a note and do it anyway,” Sarah stated. “I would rather get in trouble for helping Harry than for him to be stuck with his relatives who hate him.”

“Oh mum is going to be _so_ mad,” Fred groaned.

“It was your idea!” Draco gasped in exasperation.

“Yeah but you haven’t seen mum mad yet,” George shuddered.

Sarah ignored them. “We’ll do it tomorrow night, I’m not leaving Harry there any longer than he has to be.”


	2. Chapter Two

“I’m surprised we haven’t died yet,” Draco commented casually.

Mr Weasley’s Ford Anglia shuddered beneath them again and Sarah gripped Draco’s hand tighter. He winced and prised her fingers off his.

“Honestly, if this death trap doesn’t kill us then Sarah’s worry probably will,” he continued.

“Git,” Sarah bit out, teeth clenched tightly together. She was _not_ a fan of the flying car Mr Weasley had enchanted.

“Oi, you said Surrey, right?” Fred asked from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” Sarah grunted. “Privet Drive, number four.”

“I think we’re nearly there,” George commented, looking down at the map in his lap. He had taken his Mum’s wand and charmed the map to trap their progress. If Sarah wasn’t feeling so sick, she would have been extremely impressed by his skill.

Fred veered the car into a steady decline, houses popping into view far below.

She took a deep breath and looked out the window.

They were in a neighbourhood full of identical-looking houses – same bland colour, same perfect lawn. The only thing that ruined the ‘perfect suburbia’ image, was a set of bars over one of the second-storey windows of one of the houses.

“Guys,” Sarah said, pointing toward the barred window, “I think I found Harry’s house.”

Draco’s face turned thunderous.

“Those _bastards_!” he hissed.

Fred steered the car until it was parallel to the window.

Ron opened the door and rattled the bars gently. He leant further out – Sarah grabbed his shirt to keep him from falling – and rapped his knuckles on the window.

A shadow moved behind the glass. Suddenly, Harry’s gobsmacked face was illuminated by the moonlight. He wrenched open the window and gaped at everyone.

“ _Ron? Sarah? Draco_!” He breathed, seemingly not believing his eyes. “How did you – What the - ?”

Harry’s mouth fell open when he caught sight of Fred and George. His mind seemed to realise that they were all sitting in a car parked in _midair_. He gaped in pure shock and stood frozen.

“All right, Harry?” George asked.

“What’s been going on? You haven’t been replying to any of our letters,” said Ron.

“It’s a long story – involves a house-elf – Can you tell Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me back? Obviously, I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so – “

“For Merlin’s sake, shut _up_ , Harry,” Draco snapped, he rummaged through the mess on the floor of the car. “We’re here to get you out, you idiot.” He triumphantly held up the rope he had found.

“Tie this around the bars and then step back,” Sarah commanded, passing Harry the rope.

Harry tied it securely around the bars before hurrying back, Sarah could see him stroking Hedwig from in her cage.

“If the Dursleys wake up, I’m dead,” warned Harry.

“Trust me, they’ll be the ones in trouble,” Sarah growled.

Fred revved the engine and the rope strained taunt. He put his foot down further on the accelerator and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean off the windows as Fred drove straight up in the air.

Panting, Ron hoisted the bars into the car and passed them to George.

“They’re still asleep,” said Harry.

“Good, get your stuff, we’re leaving,” Ron said.

“I can’t – it’s locked away downstairs – “

“Where?” asked Sarah, already scrambling toward the window.

“In the cupboard underneath the stairs – but this room is locked too – “

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sarah. She climbed catlike through the window with the help of Ron and Harry.

Pulling two thin hairpins from her hair, she crept to the lock on Harry’s door. While her hands manoeuvred the hairpins, she glanced around the room in disgust.

A tiny bed sat in the corner with a threadbare blanket pushed messily at the end. From the closet spilt old, oversized clothes which Sarah had seen Harry wearing at school. The room was void of any decorations except the leather-bound book that Hagrid has given Harry at the end of last year.

The lock clicked and Sarah pulled the door open quietly.

“I’ll grab your trunk – pass anything you need from here to Ron and Draco – don’t forget Hedwig,” said Sarah.

“Watch out for the bottom stair – it creaks – “ Harry warned, already collecting the few possessions on his bedside table.

Sarah tiptoed out of his room, passing what must have been Harry’s uncle and aunt’s room. She made a rude gesture at it as she hurried down the stairs, jumping the last one.

She unlocked the door of the small cupboard and choked back a gasp.

Harry’s trunk and broom sat atop a small, worn mattress. A thin layer of dust covered everything but the worst part was the childish drawings taped to the walls. Drawings of a tiny black-haired boy holding hands with two adults looked back at Sarah and she struggled not to cry. The entire space was neglected – unloved. She knew Harry had been forced to live here but she could never have pictured how horrible it had been.

Realising that the others were waiting for her, she put Harry’s broom in his trunk and pulled it out of the cupboard, shutting and locking the door behind her.

She lugged the trunk up the stairs, being careful to make as little noise as possible.

When she got back to Harry’s room, he helped her pass the trunk through the window to Ron and Draco.

“Have you got everything?” whispered Ron.

“I think so, yeah,” nodded Harry.

Before Harry could move toward the window, Sarah grabbed his sleeve. She pulled him in for a tight hug and whispered, “I’m so sorry,” voice thick with emotion.

“I’m okay,” Harry whispered back, pulling away to smile at her. “You guys are here now.”

Sarah smiled weakly and climbed back through the window, letting Ron and Draco pull her into the car.

She had just gotten settled when Hedwig let out a loud screech from inside the car, immediately followed by a booming voice.

“THAT RUDDY OWL!”

Harry scrambled onto the chest of drawers and reached for the windowsill when his uncle hammered on the unlocked door and it crashed open.

“Harry, hurry!” shouted Draco, reaching forward for the other boy.

Harry’s uncle stood in the doorway for a split second before bellowing like an angry bull and launching forward, grabbing Harry by the ankle.

Ron, Sarah and Draco grabbed Harry by the arms and pulled as hard as they could.

“Petunia!” roared Vernon. “He’s getting away! HE’S GETTING AWAY!”

Sarah and the boys gave an almighty tug and Harry’s leg slid out of Vernon’s grasp – they pulled Harry quickly into the car and Fred slammed his foot on the accelerator. Ron could barely slam the door closed behind Harry before they were off, shooting away from the fuming man.

Harry rolled down the window, the night air whipping his dark hair, and waved at his furious relatives.

“See you next summer!” he shouted sarcastically.

The Weasleys, Sarah and Draco laughed as they all settled back into the seats. Sarah was sitting on Draco’s lap to make space for Harry and she was holding Hedwig. She undid the lock on her cage and opened the window.

“I’m letting Hedwig out, she can meet us back at The Burrow,” she said, stroking the snowy owl once before letting her fly away into the night.

“Thanks, she hasn’t been allowed out all summer,” said Harry.

“So what happened?” asked Ron.

Harry explained to them about how a house elf had shown up in his room a few days ago and admitted to stealing his mail. It had then used magic in the house, causing Harry to get an official warning from the Ministry.

“He kept trying to hit himself,” Harry explained. “I don’t think he was allowed to warn me.”

“That’s so strange,” said Sarah, staring out the window at the moving horizon. “I wonder why he would be trying to keep you from Hogwarts.”

No one had an answer for that.

***

A faint pinkish glow was being to become visible along the horizon to the east.

“Guys, we’re nearly home.”

Sarah jolted awake to the sound of Fred’s voice. She raised her head from where it had been resting on Draco’s shoulder and saw that they were gradually getting closer to the ground.

“Draco, wake up,” she said, shaking him gently.

“Ugh I hate you, Sarah,” he groaned, turning to burrow his head in her back to avoid the sunlight now peaking through the clouds.

“Love you too, now wake up, we’re nearly back.”

They woke up the other three boys while Fred continued to bring the car lower, yawning widely.

“We’re just a little way outside the village,” George tiredly explained to Harry. “Ottery St. Catchpole.”

Lower and lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees.

“Be ready, Harry,” moaned Ron as The Burrow came into view. “Mum is going to _kill_ us.”

“Don’t be silly, Ron,” Sarah said with a smirk. “She’ll definitely kill you and the twins but Harry, Draco and I perfectly safe. A pureblood would never kill a guest in their own home.”

Ron grumbled a curse under his breath.

“Oh!” Sarah gasped, hand over her heart, “And you kiss your mother with that mouth!”

“Touchdown!” said Fred, interrupting Ron’s angry reply, as they hit the ground. They had landed next to the tumbledown garage in the small front yard.

“It’s not much,” said Ron to Harry.

“It’s _wonderful_ ,” said Harry happily.

Sarah beamed at the boy before pushing open the door. “All right, let’s go eat.”

They got out of the car.

“Now, we’ll go upstairs really quietly,” said Fred, “and when Mum calls us down for breakfast, we’ll tell her what we did. And hopefully, she’ll be too distracted by Harry’s presence to kill us.”

“Right,” said Ron. “Come on, Harry, you’re sharing with me. I sleep at the – at the top – “

Ron had gone a nasty greenish colour, his eyes fixed on the house. The others wheeled around.

“Oh shit…” Sarah mumbled.

Mrs Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a sabre-toothed tiger. 

“ _Ah_ ,” said Fred.

“I take it back, Ron,” Sarah muttered fearfully, “She looks as if she could kill us, too.”

“Oh, dear,” said George. “It was nice knowing you guys.”

Mrs Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket. Despite her appearance, she was absolutely _terrifying_. Sarah did what any self-preserving Slytherin would do – she hid behind Draco and Harry.

“ _So_ ,” Mrs Weasley said.

“Morning, Mum,” said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice. Sarah groaned quietly behind her human shields.

“Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?” said Mrs Weasley in a deadly whisper.

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to – “

All three of Mrs Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.

“ _Beds empty! Car gone! AND ONLY THIS LETTER! You could have crashed – out of my mind with worry – did you care? – never, as long as I’ve lived – you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy – “_

“Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred.

Sarah, Draco and Harry flinched in unison.

“YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest. “You could have _died_ , you could have been _seen_ , you could have lost your father his _job_! And with guests as well - !”

Mrs Weasley shouted herself hoarse by the time she turned toward Harry, Draco and Sarah.

“I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,” she said in a much calmer voice. “Sarah, Draco, I’m sorry my boys dragged you into this mess. Come in and have some breakfast.”

Sarah had never been more grateful for Mrs Weasley’s obsessive need to look after everybody. They all trudged into the house, falling into seats at the table. Before long, Mrs Weasley placed a full breakfast spread in front of them. The boys dove greedily into the piles of bacon, toast, eggs, and hash browns while Sarah went to make tea.

Mrs Weasley was moving around the kitchen, occasionally throwing dirty looks toward her children. Every now and then she muttered things like “don’t know _what_ you were thinking of” and “ _never_ would have believed it”.

“Mrs Weasley,” Sarah said softly.

The sounds of the utensils stuttered briefly before starting again, even more loudly.

“Yes, dear,” Mrs Weasley asked, turning around to smile warmly at Sarah.

Sarah wrung her hands together slowly.

“I just wanted to apologise to you. It was very rude of us to sneak out last night without your permission after you’ve so graciously offered us your hospitality,” she said.

Mrs Weasley’s face softened fractionally. “I don’t blame you, dear, or Harry or Draco.” She patted Sarah’s cheek softly.

“But it wasn’t just the twins and Ron’s idea,” argued Sarah. “I wanted to get Harry out of that place as soon as possible as well. Mrs Weasley, they had bars on his window and locks on his door, There was a _cat-flap_ for food!”

Mrs Weasley’s eyes widened and she turned toward Harry. The dark-haired boy was staring fixedly at his place.

“Is this true, Harry? Did they lock you in your room?” Mrs Weasley asked worriedly.

Harry stayed quiet until Draco nudged him softly, nodding encouragingly.

“Erm – yes, they did, Mrs Weasley. For – er – the whole summer actually,” Harry confirmed. “But it’s okay,” he added hurriedly when Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to reply. “At least I had a room and I managed to save enough food for Hedwig as well. It doesn’t matter now, I’m here. I can help out with the housework as well so I don’t intrude – “

“Harry, dear, stop!” Mrs Weasley interrupted. “You don’t need to do the housework here! Why on earth would you think I would make you do work in exchange for you staying here? You’re our guest and no arguments,” she stared down at the thin boy. “Their treatment of you is _not_ acceptable – does Dumbledore know about this?”

“Er…”

“I’ll write him a letter today,” Mrs Weasley continued.

At that moment there was a diversion in the form of Ginny. She ran into the kitchen, took one look at Harry, squealed, and ran out again.

Draco stiffened slightly beside Harry but kept eating as if nothing was wrong. Sarah sat down beside him and squeezed his knee gently.

“Ginny,” said Ron in an undertone to Harry. “My sister. She’s been talking about you all summer.”

“Yeah, she’ll be wanting your autograph, Harry,” Fred said with a grin.

Harry looked extremely uncomfortable with that idea.

He leant into Draco’s side and whispered worriedly, “She won’t _actually_ want an autograph, will she?”

Draco smiled softly and shrugged. “Who knows? She has been talking about you since we got here.”

“When did you get here?” Harry asked.

“Yesterday,” Sarah said, sipping her tea slowly. “Ron sent us a letter and we convinced Narcissa to let us Floo over. We’ll be staying for the rest of the summer.”

“Really?” Harry asked excitedly.

“Yep,” agreed Draco.

“Brilliant!” Harry beamed.

Breakfast finished shortly afterwards. Fred stood up and stretched, yawning widely.

“ _Blimey_ , I’m tired,” he said, “I think I’ll go up to bed and – “

“You will not!” snapped Mrs Weasley. “You and your brothers will de-gnome the garden for me; it’s your own fault you’ve been up all night.”

“Oh, Mum – “

“No! You’ll get it done before your father gets home, no arguing!” Mrs Weasley turned toward the three guests. “You three are more than welcome to head up to bed.”

“No it’s okay, we’ll help,” Harry said quickly.

Sarah could think of multiple things she’d rather do than de-gnome the garden but Harry looked so excited by the concept that she nodded along in agreement, elbowing Draco who groaned but also agreed.

The five of them shuffled out to the garden, blinking and grumbling at the bright sunlight.

“Harry, I hope you know how much I love you,” Sarah muttered moodily. He simply smiled at her and kissed her cheek lightly before hurrying off after the twins.

Draco dragged Sarah to where the Weasleys and Harry were crouched over a clump of bushes.

“You guys have fun,” Sarah announced, sitting down against the house, “I’m just going to enjoy the show from here.”

The boys spluttered in opposition but Sarah ignored them, shielding her eyes from the light as she watched them teach Harry and Draco how to grab the gnomes and toss them over to the neighbouring field.

At one point, she must have dozed off, because Harry was shaking her awake softly saying that they were heading back inside.

She held her arms up and smiled when Harry rolled his eyes but pulled her up.

“Piggyback me?” She asked.

“Ugh, fine,” he agreed, letting Sarah jump on his back.

She relaxed on his back as he ducked through the door Draco was holding open for them. The others had disappeared into the living room so the trio followed.

Harry and Draco chatted quietly about their holidays so far while Sarah zoned them out, focusing instead of braiding pieces of Harry’s unruly hair.

“Please let me cut this,” she begged as they stepped into the other room.

“It won’t work,” Harry warned. “Aunt Petunia tried once and it grew back overnight.”

“I won’t hack at it like she likely did,” Sarah argued. “I’ll be nice – just a little trim.”

Harry shook his head in amusement before depositing Sarah on the couch, where she waiting for the two boys to sit before curling on top of them like a cat.

“Do you ever sit by yourself?” Ron asked from where he was spread out on the floor.

“My love language is touch,” Sarah explained. “This is how I show my love. Besides,” she continued with a smirk, “why waste perfectly good human pillows.”

“You say that now, Sarah but don’t think I didn’t see you hiding behind us earlier,” Draco teased, threading his fingers through her hair.

Sarah chose to ignore him.

The five of them had nearly fallen asleep when the front door slammed.

Sarah jumped and nearly fell off the couch, Draco and Harry’s fast reflexes being the only thing that saved her.

“He’s back!” said George. “Dad’s home!”

Noise could be heard from the kitchen before Mr Weasley appeared in the doorway. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was just as red as his children’s. He was wearing long green robes which were dusty and travel-worn.

“What a night,” he mumbled, falling into a well-loved armchair near the extinguished fireplace. “Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned…”

Mr Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed.

“Find anything, Dad?” said Fred eagerly.

Mr Weasley went on to describe a few of the items that had been found on his raids.

“…but the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn’t believe – “

“LIKE CARS FOR INSTANCE?”

Mrs Weasley had appeared, holding a long poker like a sword. Mr Weasley’s eyes jerked open. He stared guiltily at his wife.

“C-cars, Molly, dear?”

“Yes, Arthur, cars,” said Mrs Weasley, eyes flashing. “Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while _really_ he was enchanting it to make it _fly_.”

Mr Weasley blinked.

“Er – well – he would be quite within the law to do that, there’s – erm – a loophole, you’ll find… As long as he wasn’t _intending_ to fly the car – “

“Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!” shouted Mrs Weasley. Sarah couldn’t help the quiet giggle that escaped her mouth. Draco pinched her shoulder in warning.

“ – And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren’t _intending_ to fly!” continued Mrs Weasley’s rant.

“Harry?” said Mr Weasley blankly. “Harry who?”

He looked around and seemed to count the people in the room, jumping when he saw Harry, Draco and Sarah.

“Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you. And you two must be Sarah Deaumont and Draco Malfoy – Molly told me you arrived yesterday, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to greet you.”

“No problem at all, Mr Weasley. We are grateful for your family’s kind hospitality,” Draco replied smoothly.

“ _Your sons flew that car to Harry’s house and back last night!”_ shouted Mrs Weasley, not one to be stopped when enraged. “What have you got to say about that, eh?”

“Did you really?” said Mr Weasley eagerly. “Did it go all right? I – I mean,” he faltered as sparks flew from Mrs Weasley’s eyes, “that – that was very wrong, boys – very wrong indeed…”

“Let’s leave them to it,” Ron muttered to them as Mrs Weasley swelled like a bullfrog. “Come on, we’ll go to my bedroom.”

The four of them slipped out of the kitchen and began the ascent up the many rickety staircases to the top level. Ron’s room was just below the attic. On the third floor, a door stood ajar. They caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes staring at Harry before it closed with a snap.

“Ginny,” said Ron. “You don’t know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally – “

They walked up the remaining staircases before reaching Ron’s room.

“Oh Merlin,” Draco muttered when they entered. “Ron, it looks like the Cannons threw up in here.”

Nearly everything in the room was a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Posters of all shapes and sizes were covering every inch of the shabby wallpaper. They all displayed the players in Ron’s favourite Quidditch team: the Chudley Cannons.

Sarah would never understand why Ron still supported them, as they were constantly coming last place in the league.

“It’s a bit small,” said Ron quickly, “but we should be able to sit and talk here without any problem. And I’m right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he’s always banging on the pipes and groaning so just ignore him…”

Harry was grinning widely, looking around the room. “This is the best house I’ve ever been in.”

Sarah smiled as Ron’s ears went pink.


	3. Chapter Three

Summer at The Burrow was nothing like anything Sarah or Draco had ever experienced before. For one, the sheer number of people sharing the same space was, admittedly at first, extremely overwhelming. Sarah could barely walk between one room and the next without bumping into someone.

Another reason was that Draco and she could do whatever they wanted. Sure, they were granted freedom at the Manor but they still had to act like proper purebloods. Here, they were able to run around widely or wrestle in the mud without anyone looking twice. The first time Sarah had seen Draco covered head-to-toe in mud after a particularly competitive tussle between Harry, Ron and the twins, she had collapsed into uncontrollable fits of laughter, barely able to draw enough breath to take a photo using Mrs Weasley’s camera.

Draco got her back the next day when he pushed her headfirst into the pond in the next field. Since then, a brutal war of pranks had commenced – only coming to a screeching halt when Mrs Weasley put her foot down after Sarah and Harry had dyed Draco’s hair bright pink and in retaliation, Draco and the twins had caused the pair’s hair to disappear.

Draco still hadn’t forgiven her for simply regrowing her hair a moment later, causing the twins to abandon Draco and officially hire her as their pranking assistant. Harry and Ron were still reeling from Sarah revealing she was a metamorphmagus but it was worth it.

Their Hogwarts letters arrived early one morning.

To Sarah’s absolute horror, all the textbooks were written by Gilderoy Lockhart.

“What on earth are they thinking?” She cried mournfully after reading the letter. “We’re going to learn absolutely _nothing_ from them!”

“Now, now, Sarah, don’t say that. Gilderoy is a very talented wizard – he knows what he’s doing!” Mrs Weasley chided gently, stirring her wand over the cooking bacon.

“Mum _fancies_ him,” teased Fred, holding his hands close to his heart and batting his eyelashes.

“Oh, _Gilderoy_ ,” George crooned, swaying dramatically into his brother’s shoulder.

“Enough of that!” snapped Mrs Weasley, blushing as everyone at the table burst into laughter.

“Oh, look,” Draco said suddenly, pulling a discarded letter off the pile, “Hermione replied.”

He read the letter aloud and scoffed as he got to the part about her doing extra work.

“I’m not even surprised,” he said, smiling.

“Don’t you start,” Sarah grouched, taking the letter from Draco, “You made me go over this year’s potions, charms _and_ transfigurations not even a week into the holiday.”

Draco turned bright pink. “We had to finish our holiday work!” he spluttered, “It’s good to be prepared.”

Harry and Ron burst into peals of laughter while Sarah fondly muttered, “ _Nerd_ ,”.

“Hermione’s going to be at Diagon Alley next Wednesday,” Sarah told Mrs Weasley. “Can we please go and meet her there?”

“Of course we can, dear,” replied Mrs Weasley. “What are you all up to, today?”

The group was planning on practising Quidditch in the field next to The Burrow. Sarah and Draco were planning on trying out for their house team this year and Harry, Fred and George had been running them through drills with Ron helping out wherever he could.

“Have you thought about trying out for the team, Ron?” Harry asked after one of their training sessions.

He was propped up next to Draco against a tree as the blond read. Ron was lying across Sarah’s legs as she tried to braid sections of his hair.

“Nah, not this year,” replied Ron. “Maybe in a few years, though. I want to keep training.”

“You’re already really good,” Sarah said without looking up from her work.

“Thanks,” blushed Ron. “But Wood’s still there and I think I’d like to go for Keeper eventually.”

“We’ll have to play a full game on Harry’s birthday,” commented Draco, slowing turning the page.

“What do you mean?” asked Harry in surprise. “I didn’t know we were doing anything.”

“Of course we are, it’s your birthday,” Draco replied, finally looking up from his book.

“Erm…” muttered Harry. “Well, I wasn’t expecting anything …”. He ran a hand through his messy hair, blushing slightly.

“Honestly, Harry, just accept that as your friends, we’re obviously going to celebrate your birthday,” Draco sighed in exasperation.

Harry’s blush deepened.

Sarah threw a pebble at him and said, “You’re not at the Dursleys anymore, you deserve a party.”

Harry looked worried for a moment before Ron interrupted him, “Don’t even try arguing, Mum has everything planned out already.”

Harry sagged in defeat but a soft smile played across his face.

***

The days quickly passed until finally, they were getting ready to leave for Diagon Alley. Mrs Weasley had woken them up with plates full of bacon sandwiches and Sarah had barely managed to grab one before the boys and Ginny were descending upon them.

Sarah watched in horrified curiosity as Ron inhaled a total of five sandwiches in a ten-minute span.

“You’re going to make yourself horribly sick one of these days,” she said as she watched him reach for another sandwich.

“I’m a growing boy, I need my sustenance.”

“You’re disgusting that’s what you are.”

After breakfast, the seven Weasleys, Harry, Draco and Sarah all crowded together in front of the fireplace.

Mrs Weasley handed a flowerpot to Harry. “Here you go, dear. Just grab a pinch.”

Harry stared at the flowerpot in confusion. “Erm…what am I meant to do?”

“Oh dear, haven’t you ever travelled by Floo before?” Mrs Weasley asked.

“Erm…”

“I’ll go with him, Mrs Weasley,” said Sarah. She stepped up and grabbed a handful of the Floo powder. “Harry, hold onto my arm and when we step in, stay still. Try to keep your eyes closed and don’t breathe in the ash,” she warned.

She threw the powder into the fire and shouted, “The Leaky Cauldron!” before pulling Harry into the fire behind her. They swirled in a haze of green flames and Sarah tightened her grip on Harry’s arm.

Finally, they burst through the Floo, both of them tumbling to the floor in a groaning heap. The whoosh of the Floo sounded up again as Draco stepped through, laughing as he caught sight of them tangled on the floor.

“How come, even after so many years doing it, you still can’t step out of the Floo without falling over?” Draco asked as he helped them off the floor.

“Some of us just don’t have perfect balance ingrained in them,” Sarah complained. “I get motion sickness, you know that.”

She dusted herself off and crossed her arms, grumpily waiting for the others to arrive. She surveyed the room and found that the limited number of people there had stopped what they were doing and were instead staring at their small group.

“What are you looking at?” She demanded with a firm look at the patrons. “I know I’m gorgeous but that’s no reason to stare.”

The patrons quickly turned back to their meals, conversation bubbling up louder than before.

“Don’t be scarin’ my customers off, Miss Deaumont,” called the owner from behind the bar.

“No promises, Tom,” Sarah smirked.

“I swear letting you stay with us has made you even more Slytherin,” Ron said with a pained looked on his face. “And I don’t even know how that’s possible!”

“Come on you lot, we don’t have all day,” Mrs Weasley trilled, leading Ginny toward the entrance to Diagon Alley.

The group spilled out onto the main laneway.

“Okay, because there’s so many of us, let’s split up – we’ll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to get your school books,” Mrs Weasley said with the air of a commander directing her troops. “And not one step down Knockturn Alley!” She shouted at the retreating backs of the twins.

Harry, Draco, Ron and Sarah hurried towards Gringotts to fill their purses before beginning their shopping. After they stepped out of Madame Malkins, they heard a loud shout echo across the heads of the shoppers.

“SARAH! DRACO! HARRY! RON!”

Sarah whipped around to see Hermione racing up the street toward them, beaming from ear to ear. The brunette launched herself at Harry when she reached them.

“They got you! I was so worried when you didn’t reply to any of our letters!” Hermione shrieked.

“Let the boy breathe, Hermione,” Ron said, easing the girl off Harry.

“Have you gotten all your school supplies yet?” Hermione asked breathlessly.

“No, just our robes,” replied Draco.

“Brilliant, I need to get more ink and parchment,” Hermione stated, linking arms with Sarah before marching back down the street.

They finished their shopping early and stopped for peanut-butter ice-creams before heading to Flourish and Blotts. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in.

Sarah groaned as she read the banner hanging across the upper windows.

“Please _no_ ,” she begged. “Anyone but him.”

Ron and Draco seemed to share the same opinion, judging by their disgusted faces. Harry merely look extremely confused. Hermione, on the other hand, was beaming.

“We can actually meet him!” Hermione squealed. “I mean he’s written almost the whole booklist!”

Sarah groaned again, despairing the loss of a perfectly sane young mind with so much potential.

They pushed their way through the crowd and each grabbed a copy of _The_ _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ before slipping into line with the Weasleys and Hermione’s parents.

“Oh, good, there you are,” Mrs Weasley gushed, patting down her hair. “We’ll be able to see him soon…”

Gilderoy Lockhart slowly came into view and Sarah wished he hadn’t. He had wavy blonde hair that seemed stuck in the same position by excessive potion usage, the image only exaggerated by the wizard's hat sat precariously at an angle on top of his head. He was in forget-me-not blue robes that matched his eyes and he was beaming and winking at the crowd. The worst thing about the entire event was the multitude of posters of his face that smiled at everyone from all angles. Everywhere she turned, she couldn’t escape the blinding white small of one Gilderoy Lockhart.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Ron muttered, Sarah nodding along in agreement.

A short, irritable looking man was dancing around taking photos with a large camera that emitted large purple puffs of smoke.

“Out of the way,” he snarled, roughly pushing past Sarah, causing her to stumble into Harry to stay upright.

“Oi! Watch it!” Draco snapped loudly.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He saw Draco – and then he saw Harry, still holding Sarah steady. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, “It _can’t_ be Harry Potter?”

The crowd parted and Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry’s arm and pulled him to the front. Initially, Harry tried to drag Sarah with him but she shook him off, holding onto Draco so she wouldn’t be a victim of Lockhart’s ego.

“ _Traitor_ ,” Harry hissed as he was pulled away, face burning a bright red.

Sarah tuned out Lockhart’s resulting speech, watching in amusement as Harry twitched repeatedly in discomfort. Finally, Lockhart dropped a pile of his books into Harry’s reluctant arms and released him.

Harry bolted toward them.

“I hate all of you,” he declared, “May you all rot in hell.”

“Aw, we love you too,” Sarah cooed, pinching his cheek. “Weren’t you just adorable up there with your red face and nervous twitch.”

Before Harry could reply with anything more than an angry growl, a voice drawled loudly from behind them.

“Bet you just _loved_ that, Potter?”

The group spun around to see Crabbe leaning nearby, a sneer planted on his face.

“Famous Harry Potter. Can’t even walk into a bookstore without getting on the front page,” he snarled, pushing toward the group.

“What do you want, Crabbe?” Fred snapped.

Ginny, Fred and George had joined them and were now watching the Slytherin with contempt in their eyes.

Meanwhile, Harry poured the pile of books from his arms into Ginny’s cauldron.

“Here, you have these – I’ll buy my own – “ Harry muttered.

“Got yourself a _girlfriend_ now, Potter?” Crabbe sneered. “And here I was thinking you and Deaumont make such a happy couple. I’m not surprised you dropped her – but for a Weasley…well…”

Ron growled from behind Sarah and she held a hand out to stop the redhead from charging Crabbe.

“Enough, Crabbe,” she snapped. “Your insults are childish. Come find us to spar when you finally grow up.” She pushed past the dark-haired boy, who was now flushing in anger.

They quickly purchased their books and began struggling towards the entrance where they bumped into Mr Weasley.

“Ron! Ginny!” Mr Weasley called as he struggled over toward them. “What are you all doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley.”

Sarah felt Draco stiffen beside her. She glanced toward him and saw that his face had gone several shades paler.

Lucius Malfoy emerged from the bookcases and examined the group, eyes flashing dangerously as they rested on Sarah and Draco.

“Lucius,” Mr Weasley nodded coldly.

Lucius snapped his attention away from his son and instead toward the Weasley patriarch.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” said Lucius. “All those raids…I hope they’re paying you overtime?”

He reached into Ginny’s cauldron and extracted a very battered copy of one of her textbooks.

“Obviously not,” Lucius said. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

Mr Weasley flushed darker than Ron or Ginny.

“Father,” Draco said, skin pink with anger.

“Oh yes…” Lucius turned toward his son and sneered. “My own son chooses to associate with these…” He turned toward the Granger’s behind them. “… _people_.”

“Enough, father,” said Draco forcibly. “You are embarrassing yourself.”

“No, I think you will find that _you_ are embarrassing your father, young Mr Malfoy.”

Sarah froze in horror as the newest voice washed over her. She looked at the man that had just stepped up next to Lucius Malfoy.

“Hello, Sarah, sweetheart,” her father said coldly. “It _has_ been too long.”

Sarah heard her friend’s gasp behind her as she replied coolly, “Father.”

“Now, now,” Antonius Deaumont tutted. “I haven’t seen you in so long. I have been sitting at home waiting for your correspondence. I had expected to see you at the start of the summer.”

“I wasn’t aware I was welcome,” Sarah stated coldly.

Her father’s eyes narrowed and he stepped forward.

“Watch your tone with me, girl,” he snarled quietly.

“Oh, ‘ _girl’_ , am I now?” Sarah snapped. “I thought I was ‘ _sweetheart’_.”

Antonius growled and grabbed her arm tightly.

“You are coming home with me, _now_ ,” he barked, pulling her roughly forward.

Shouts echoed from behind her as her friends flanked her.

“Release her, Antonius,” Mr Weasley said firmly. “You cannot force her to go with you.”

“She is my daughter,” Antonius snapped cruelly. “She will listen to me when I tell her to do something.”

“No, I won’t!” Sarah shouted, pulling herself from his grasp and backing into Harry. He held her shoulders comfortingly while Draco stepped protectively in front of her.

“I think you should leave, father,” Draco said calmly. “You wouldn’t want to cause any more of a scene than you have.”

Lucius and Antonius glanced around at the crowd which had been growing more and more interested in the confrontation.

“I expect to see you at Deaumont Manor at the start of next summer, Sarah,” Antonius warned. “You will not like the consequences if I do not.”

Sarah didn’t bother replying, turning her back on her father instead.

It was a subdued group that walked back to the Leaky Cauldron. They waved goodbye to the Grangers at some point but Sarah wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t say a word the entire trip back to The Burrow, trying in vain to keep her body from shaking.

When she finally stumbled through the fireplace, she raced upstairs, ignoring the worried looks she got and threw herself into the room she shared with Draco. She collapsed on her bed and released all the tears and fear she had kept contained since her interaction with her father.

An indiscernible amount of time later, she heard the door open and felt the side of her mattress dip. Draco remained silent as she flung herself at him, sobbing into his chest. He stroked a calming hand up and down her back and let her cry in a way she hadn’t since her mother’s death.

“Breathe, Sarah, _breathe_ ,” Draco murmured in her ear.

She tried to obey, chest heaving as great gasps wracked her body.

“Why _now_?” she wept, gripping Draco tightly. “W-why does h-h-he – have t-to – s-show up n-now?”

“I don’t know, love, I don’t know,” Draco whispered, never faltering in his comforting strokes.

“I _can’t_ – “ her voice broke and she drew in a deep breath. “Two years, Draco. Two _years_ he was gone – only to show up now!”

Draco nodded and let her talk, knowing that she needed to get the thoughts out before they overwhelmed her.

“He didn’t even show up to her funeral…” Sarah whispered brokenly, her sobs finally subsiding.

“You’re safe, Sarah,” Draco said firmly. “You’re safe and he can’t hurt you – I won’t let him.”

They sat there until Sarah’s breathing calmed down.

“I’m okay,” she sniffed.

“We both know you’re lying,” Draco retorted with a soft smile.

Sarah smiled weakly in reply and rubbed her red-rimmed eyes.

“Are you okay to go downstairs?” Draco asked carefully.

Sarah nodded and stood up, proud that her legs only shook a little. She turned shining grey eyes on Draco, overcome by the all-encompassing love they held for each other.

“I just really want some ice-cream,” Sarah admitted softly.

Draco laughed and stood up as well, taking her hand to lead her downstairs. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” he promised.

***

When they arrived downstairs, they found Harry, Ron and Mrs Weasley sitting at the table. None of the other Weasleys were nearby but Sarah could hear loud noises issuing from the backyard.

Harry’s head shot up when he heard them come down the stairs and he half-rose out of his chair, extending a hand toward Sarah.

“I’m okay,” she said, cutting off whatever Harry was about to say.

She stepped forward and embraced the dark-haired boy tightly before taking a seat at the table, smiling at Ron and Mrs Weasley.

“Oh, Sarah,” Mrs Weasley comforted. “I’m so glad to see that you are feeling better. I can’t imagine how today must have felt.”

“It was just unexpected,” Sarah replied.

Mrs Weasley seemed as if she were about to push for more details when Draco interrupted her.

“Mrs Weasley?” He asked politely. “You wouldn’t happen to have any ice-cream would you?”

“Oh,” Mrs Weasley said in surprise, “I don’t believe we do but I will go make some for you all now.” She rose and with a kind smile at Sarah, asked, “What flavour would you like, dear?”

“Peanut butter, please.”

Mrs Weasley bustled off into the kitchen, leaving Ron and Harry to turn their attention to the emotionally drained girl.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked gently.

“Not really,” admitted Sarah. “I’d much rather eat ice-cream until I’m sick and then relax with you all in the lounge until we pass out.”

Ron laughed. “I’m with you for that plan.”

Sarah beamed at her boys and threw an arm over Harry’s shoulders.

“Okay, was I the only one who thought Harry looked absolutely _adorable_ all flustered and red today?”

Harry groaned while the others laughed and the conversation quickly dissolved into light-hearted teasing and horrified renditions of Lockhart, broken only by the arrival of ice-cream.

Hours later, Mr Weasley walked into the lounge to find the four of them piled against one another on the couch, half-asleep.

He gently shook them awake and told them to go on up to their rooms.

Ron straightened from where he had been resting on Sarah as she uncurled herself from Harry’s side. Draco raised his head from Harry’s other shoulder and blinked blearily at all the movement.

They helped each other up the winding stairs until finally, Sarah collapsed onto Draco’s bed, feeling him fall beside her – both of them dead to the world in seconds.

***

Harry’s birthday arrived in a flurry of last-minute baking, present wrapping, and diversionary techniques – the last of which resided upon Sarah so that the others could set up the dining area for the birthday dinner.

“I know you’re planning something,” Harry accused.

They were both currently struggling up a large hill a few fields away from The Burrow. Sarah had announced that she wanted to go for a walk and demanded that Harry join her. The boy had looked confused but accepted after a stern glare from Draco.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sarah lied.

“Why else are we out on a hike in the middle of bloody nowhere?” Harry cried, throwing his arms up.

“I simply enjoy the beauty of nature and thought you might appreciate it with me,” Sarah breezed. “Look at all the pretty trees.”

She waved her arm pathetically around at the horizon which mainly consisted of fields, grass and yep, you guessed it, more fields. There was a group of weak-looking saplings at the top of the hill they had just climbed.

Harry just levelled a disbelieving look at her.

She winced slightly. “Okay, I guess the trees aren’t _that_ pretty.”

“Oh my god,” Harry muttered in disbelief, shaking his head.

“Whether we may or may not be planning something – which I will neither confirm nor deny – I truly did want to escape that house for a while,” Sarah admitted. “After growing up somewhere as empty as the Manor, it gets a bit claustrophobic being constantly surrounded by people.”

“What was it like?” Harry asked, sitting down against a rock. “Growing up in the Manor?”

Sarah settled beside him and thought about the question.

“Lonely,” she finally said. “It was lonely.”

She looked out toward the horizon, insects buzzing all around them.

“Draco and I had each other and my mother and Narcissa – we even got to see Pansy and Blaise and the others occasionally if our parents met up…But – it was lonely. Both the Manor’s had so much space, you could explore them for hours and still find new rooms or hallways. When Draco or my mother were busy, I only had the house elves and my books for company. I would wander around the grounds reading, finding obscure locations to get lost in the next story,” she paused briefly and smiled at the memory of one of her favourite spots. “When I was about seven or eight, I found a small clearing in the woods. There was a small creek and the softest grass you could ever imagine. I would spend hours reading in the shade until the bells rang for dinner.” She glanced at Harry, who was watching her intently. “Don’t get me wrong, Draco and I had everything we could have wanted growing up – but I think part of me wished to have friends. Friends to share my reading spots with, to wander the grounds beside me. Draco did as often as he could but his father looked down upon it. So we stopped. I’ve gone back to the clearing over the years but – “ She cut off, looking at the ground.

“But then your mother died,” Harry finished softly.

Grey eyes met green as Sarah nodded.

“My father wasn’t around much, so it was usually just my mother and me at home. When she died, a part of me died with her. If it weren’t for Draco and Narcissa – I don’t know what would have happened,” Sarah took a calming breath. “I haven’t been back home since her funeral – I couldn’t stand to walk through the hallways that echoed her voice or stand in the rooms she used to love.”

“And that’s why you reacted the way you did when your father appeared,” Harry realised.

Sarah nodded silently and leant her head against the rock behind her. She felt Harry grab her hand and squeeze softly. She squeezed his in return.

“Look at us,” she laughed quietly. “Two maudlin souls seeking comfort for their lonely lives.”

“I’m glad you had Draco to go to,” said Harry.

She turned to look at him sharply. His face was looking away from her but she could see the tension in his jaw.

“Hey,” she said softly, reaching to turn his face toward hers. “You have us now – me, Draco, Ron, Hermione – don’t forget the Weasleys – you’re not alone, now,” she promised.

Harry smiled brightly, green eyes lighting up with happiness.

“We better get back,” Sarah said, staring at the sun which had begun to set.

They began the trek back, walking hand in hand to remind each other of the new promise of comfort.

“Hey, what happened to your stuff if you haven’t been back to the Manor in a year?” Harry asked suddenly.

Sarah looked at him in surprise. “Oh, Narcissa got the house elves to pack it all up before the funeral and move it into the room next to Draco’s at Malfoy Manor,” she laughed. “You should have seen the looks on their faces when I refused to let them pack or unpack my books by magic – they were furious.”

Sarah ranted about the house-elves’ refusal to let her unpack everything by herself and their horrified shock at her insistence of unpacking and sorting her books by hand. By the time she finished her story, The Burrow had appeared in front of them.

Cries of “Happy Birthday!” and “Surprise!” bombarded them as they stepped through the door into the living room.

Harry shot Sarah a look that said ‘ _I knew it_ ’ while she just smiled cheekily back at him. She pushed Harry forward to greet the hoard of friends and adoptive family. While they occupied themselves, Sarah crept around the side toward Draco, who was leaning against the fireplace mantle.

“Did you have a good walk?” he asked, a knowing gleam in his stormy eyes.

“It was very soothing,” she replied with a smile. “Are there any hors d’oeuvres?” she asked, glancing toward the table laden with a certifiable buffet.

Draco scoffed. “Please, this is a Weasley party, not a Malfoy one – of course they aren’t any hors d’oeuvres.”

Sarah pouted and opened her mouth for a snarky retort but was cut off when a great cloud of frizzy, brown hair obscured her vision.

“Oh, Sarah, are you okay?” Hermione fretted. “I can’t _believe_ your father would just show up unannounced and treat you like that! Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Hermione, I’m fine – “ Sarah gasped, trying and failing not to inhale swatches of Hermione’s bushy hair. “But I might not be soon if you continue suffocating me.”

Hermione released her and took a step back, reaching to gather her hair in a messy bun that barely contained her adventurous curls.

“Sorry, I’m just glad you’re okay now,” Hermione said.

“I am, truly,” Sarah affirmed, smiling at her friend.

She saw Harry heading toward them, a badge pinned on his chest which read ‘THE BOY WHO LIVED TO BE TWELVE!’

“Fred and George?” Draco asked wryly as Harry struggled to remove the badge.

“Yep,” Harry grunted in annoyance. “The stupid thing won’t come off.”

He continued in vain to pull off the badge.

“It has to be a charm, I’ll ask them about it later,” Sarah promised.

She glanced around the room at the group they had managed to get together. Every free surface was claimed by someone: the Weasleys; Harry’s fellow Gryffindors Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom; and their small group consisting of Draco, Hermione, Harry and herself. Ron was making his way over with plates piled high with food.

“Oi!” he called as he drew nearer. “Mum said she’s about to bring out the cake.”

“Cake?” Harry said in surprise.

Before anyone could reply, Mrs Weasley appeared from the kitchen with a large cake in her hands. She called everyone to attention and the group crowded together near the buffet table with Harry standing awkwardly at the front. His face was bright red as everyone sang happy birthday before distributing cake slices.

Sarah found herself curled up on the couch beside Harry, Neville and Ginny. Draco was sitting on the floor and resting against the couch, letting Sarah braid sections of his hair. Hermione was perched on Ron’s armchair while Dean and Seamus shared the other. 

Mr and Mrs Weasley had retreated to the kitchen while the twins had disappeared to their room, leaving the others alone.

“Is everyone excited for school?” Hermione asked.

“Sure, but can’t say I’m too thrilled about the actual work,” Seamus remarked.

Dean and Ron laughed in agreement while Hermione looked scandalised.

“But that’s the whole point - !” She started.

“Hermione, not tonight please,” Harry begged, lifting his head off the back of the couch.

“I for one am looking forward to getting sorted,” Ginny announced happily. She had calmed down in the last week, having gotten used to Harry’s constant presence. “I still wish you guys would tell me what happens,” she pouted.

They had all agreed to keep Ginny in the dark about the sorting so that she didn’t know what to expect.

“Good try, Ginny,” Sarah scoffed, finishing another delicate braid in Draco’s blond hair.

Harry looked down in interest as she began another braid. “Can you teach me how to do that?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Sarah.

She began showing Harry the different techniques to use and helped him finish an, albeit messy, complete braid.

Conversation about school, Quidditch and other random topics flowed around them as Harry continued to work on Draco’s hair. Sarah had undone her previous braids to give Harry more hair to work with.

“There, you’ve got it!” she said happily, beaming at the other boy. “Draco, switch with me so that he can practice on longer hair.”

Draco grumbled but obliged, settling beside Harry and helping him adjust to Sarah’s long hair.

Some time passed before Dean, Seamus and Neville had to leave. Everyone waved their goodbyes as the three boys walked out of the room. Hermione was next to leave, with promises to find them on the train at the start of September.

“Okay, you lot. Up to bed now,” Mrs Weasley said, ushering them up to their rooms to collapse in the sweet oblivion of sleep.


	4. Chapter Four

The rest of the summer flashed past and before they knew it, it was September first.

Mrs Weasley had everyone up at dawn but somehow there was still a great deal to do. Ron and Harry still hadn’t finished packing despite Mrs Weasley and Sarah hounding after them the day before.

Sarah and Draco were eating breakfast calmly amidst the whirlwind of chaos from the Weasley family. Mrs Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny’s trunk to the car.

“How on earth are you just sitting there?” asked Harry in amazement during one of the quieter moments.

“Time management,” said Draco in a dry tone, taking another sip of his scalding tea. “Handy skill to acquire.”

Finally, they made their way out of the yard where Mr Weasley’s small Ford Anglia was waiting.

“How on earth are we supposed to fit ten people in there?” Sarah whispered to Harry.

Mr Weasley overheard and beckoned them closer.

“Not a word to Molly,” he whispered to them as he opened the trunk and showed them how it had been magically expanded so that all the luggage fitted easily.

They all scrambled into the car, which easily held all ten passengers, and got ready to leave. However, they had to go back three times because someone had forgotten something and were now running extremely late for the train.

Draco was twitching slightly beside Sarah; punctuality had been trained into them since birth and the thought of being late to the train filled them with anxiety.

At last, they arrived at the platform and began hurrying through the barrier which divided regular Kings Cross Station to Platform nine and three-quarters.

“Follow after us,” Sarah said before running at the barrier with Draco, emerging onto the crowded wizarding platform. They shot past Mr and Mrs Weasley and began hauling their trunks onto the train. Fred and George appeared briefly to help them before disappearing into the carriages.

“Where are Harry and Ron?” called Sarah, looking around quickly at the emptying platform. She spotted Mrs Weasley looking around with a worried expression on her face.

The whistle for the train’s departure broke through the haze and Draco startled, grabbing Sarah’s arm and pulling her onto the train.

“Maybe they got on at a different section,” he said, dragging her down the corridor as the doors slammed shut and the train began to move. “We’ll go look for them.”

They made their way down the train, occasionally waving at one of their friends. They saw Fred, George and Ginny sitting in a compartment with the twins’ friend, Lee Jordan.

“Have you guys seen Harry and Ron?” Sarah asked.

“Haven’t seen them since we got on the platform,” Fred said.

The pair nodded and moved on. They asked the same question when they saw Neville, Dean and Seamus – no one had seen them.

“What if they didn’t make it?” Sarah said.

Draco looked worried. “Mr and Mrs Weasley were there – they probably have them and will just bring them to Hogwarts.”

“You’re right.”

In the next carriage, they found Hermione, surprisingly sitting with Pansy, Millicent, Blaise and Theo.

“Oh, thank goodness, there you are! I was looking everywhere for you!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from her seat to wrap her arms around Sarah and then Draco. “Where are Ron and Harry?”

Sarah and Draco exchanged nervous glances. “We don’t know,” Draco said. “We got separated when we got to the platform and no one’s seen them since.”

“They’ll probably find you soon,” Millicent assured. “Come sit down.”

“Yeah, you’re going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that,” Blaise said wryly.

Draco scoffed and squeezed in between Pansy and Hermione. “Malfoys don’t get wrinkles,” he said, attempting to imitate his father’s drawl.

The others burst into laughter.

“Keep telling yourself that, darling,” Sarah said. She settled down beside Hermione and leant against the other girl. “I’m worried about Harry and Ron,” she admitted quietly.

“We won’t know anything until we get to school, try not to worry now,” Hermione said with a sad grimace.

Sarah sighed in response and rested her head on Hermione’s shoulder. This morning had already been too much to handle with the limited sleep she had gotten and she soon fell into fitful bouts of sleep.

Hermione shook her fully awake as they were nearing Hogsmeade station. The group grabbed their things and followed the older students to the carriages that would take them up to the school.

There was still no sign of the boys once they were seated in the Great Hall and Sarah could see Hermione talking rapidly to the older Weasleys.

She had to turn her attention back to the front of the Hall when the first years entered but throughout the sorting and following feast, her mind was whirling, thinking of all the possibilities as to why her friends had not arrived.

At one point, Sarah noticed that Professor Snape left the hall, only to return a few minutes later and leave again with Professor McGonagall. When they returned, they both spoke in low whispers to Dumbledore, who looked at them over the top of his half-moon glasses with a stern expression on his face.

The feast finally finished and Sarah and Draco reluctantly allowed themselves to be dragged by their friends down to the Slytherin common room.

“I can’t stand this,” Sarah announced suddenly. They had been sitting around the fire chatting for nearly an hour and still had heard nothing about Harry and Ron. “I’m going to Gryffindor.”

Draco leapt up with her and they hurried toward the entrance.

“But you won’t be able to get in!” Pansy called from the couch.

“And if a teacher finds you, you’ll get in so much trouble,” Theo added.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sarah stated matter-of-factly. “We need to know if they’re okay.”

She grabbed Draco’s hand and was about to open the door when the passageway suddenly slid open.

“I hope neither of you was planning on doing something unwise,” Professor Snape drawled.

“Sir, we wanted to know if Harry and Ron were okay?” Sarah said bravely. “They weren’t on the train and we haven’t heard anything – “

“You will just have to wait until morning, Miss Deaumont, Mr Malfoy,” Professor Snape said sharply. “If either of you leaves this room tonight you will serve detention with me for the rest of the year. Is that understood?”

Sarah and Draco nodded shallowly and turned away, stalking back to their friends in defeat.

“We should head to bed,” Pansy said.

“Yeah, I can’t stand these two worrying all night. It’s driving me spare,” Blaise moaned.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Blaise,” Sarah stated. “Everyone already knows you’re crazy.”

“All right, enough of that, love,” he replied grumpily, standing up and pulling Draco and Theo to their feet. “We’ll see you lovely ladies in the morning.”

Draco kissed Sarah’s cheek before bidding goodbye to the others.

Sarah followed the girls into their dorm and fell onto her pillows, not tired but wishing the day would end already.

***

Sarah and Draco were eating breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning when Crabbe appeared next to them.

“Is it true?” He demanded, a cruel smile on his face.

“Is what true?” Draco snapped. He wasn’t much of a morning person and didn’t appreciate stupid comments before he had finished his tea.

“Did your Gryffindork friends really drive a flying car to school last night?” Crabbe sneered.

Sarah and Draco glanced at each other in surprise.

“No idea,” Sarah answered truthfully. “Now if you wouldn’t mind leaving, your presence is affecting my appetite.”

Crabbe glowered and stomped away.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Draco asked quickly.

“He seemed too annoyed to be lying,” Sarah said.

Just then, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked into the Great Hall. Whispers broke out at the sight of them but Harry just glanced toward the Slytherin table, grabbed Ron by the arm and began dragging him toward it.

“First off, we’re sorry,” he stated as soon as he reached Sarah and Draco.

“Darling, we have no idea what you’re talking about. Start from the beginning,” Sarah insisted.

Harry launched into a story about how the barrier wouldn’t let them through to the platform and that they missed the train and how Ron suggested they use the car to get here – with Ron himself adding comments occasionally. Sarah and Draco listened in growing horror as they talked about how they had flown into the Whomping Willow and how Snape had found them, telling them that they had been seen by muggles and wizards alike.

“And the worst thing is that I broke my wand!” Ron moaned miserably, pulling the broken piece of wood from his pocket and laying it on the table.

“ _The worst thing_?” Sarah demanded in a screech. She placed her hands on the table and leant forward, getting in Ron’s face. “You _drove_ your _flying car_ across the country!” She hissed. “You could have been killed! And no one would have known what happened.”

Harry gently pulled her back into her seat and bravely rested on hand on her shoulder.

“We didn’t think,” he said softly. Sarah whipped her head toward him, eyes blazing. “At the time it seemed like a good idea.”

Sarah huffed and settled back, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m so angry at both of you for making us worry.”

“We’re sorry, Sarah,” Harry said gently, reaching over to pull her into a hug. She stubbornly kept her body stiff but Harry persevered, refusing to release her until she relaxed. With another huff she melted into the hug, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“How angry was Snape?” she asked cheekily.

“Oh, he looked ready to kill us,” Ron said with a mouthful of food. “If I wasn’t so terrified it would’ve been hilarious.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Ronald,” Hermione snapped.

Ron and Hermione quickly began to bicker across the table and Draco sighed, crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on top of them.

“Tell me when they stop,” he muttered.

Sarah and Harry laughed.

“Hey Sarah,” Harry said suddenly, peering closely at her eyes. “I thought you had brown eyes?”

Sarah grinned. “Naturally, I do. I decided to change it up a bit this year.”

“Why?”

Sarah was silent for a beat. Draco lifted his head from the table and nodded encouragingly at her.

“You don’t have to – “ Harry had seemed to notice that the topic may be uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” said Sarah. “After I saw my father I decided I wanted one less thing to connect me to him. Mother used to say I got her eye shape but his eye colour,” she explained. “So I changed the colour. I’ve always loved Draco’s eyes so I went with grey.” She tilted her head at Harry. “Although your green eyes are _stunning_ , you might see me with that colour once in a while.”

Harry laughed. “If you’re not careful people are going to start to notice.”

“I’ve decided I don’t give a shit,” Sarah said proudly.

Breakfast quickly went downhill at the arrival of the mail. Something large and grey fell into Hermione’s jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

“ _Errol!_ ” said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

“Oh you are so screwed,” Sarah muttered in amused horror.

“Oh, no – “ Ron gasped.

“It’s all right, he’s still alive,” said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

“It’s not that – it’s _that_.”

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary at first glance but Sarah knew it wasn’t. Harry watched in confusion as Sarah, Draco and Ron all pushed away from the table in fear.

“What’s the matter?” said Harry.

“She’s – she’s sent me a Howler,” said Ron faintly.

“You’d better open it, Ron,” said Draco in a timid whisper. “It’ll be worse if you don’t. My father used to make the elves listen to any Howlers he ignored – it was horrible.”

Harry looked at their expectant faces to the red envelope.

“What’s a Howler?” he said.

But all their attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.

“Open it,” Sarah urged. “It’ll be over soon…”

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol’s beak, and slit it open. Sarah and Draco stuffed their fingers in their ears and Sarah motioned for Harry and Hermione to do the same.

Regardless, the noise still rivalled that of an explosion. A roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

“ – _STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE – “_

Mrs Weasley’s yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swivelling around to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

“ _– LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD HAVE BOTH DIED – “_

Sarah was wondering when Harry’s name would be brought up. She glanced at the black-haired boy to find him sitting in shock, his face pale.

“ _– I CAN’T EVEN IMAGINE WHAT WAS GOING THROUGH YOUR HEAD, DID YOU THINK ABOUT HOW SARAH AND DRACO FELT WHEN YOU NEVER FOLLOWED THEM ONTO THE TRAIN? THEY BOTH DESERVE AN APOLOGY FOR YOUR ATROCIOUS BEHAVIOUR, CAN’T IMAGINE THEY WOULD EVER WANT TO STAY WITH US AGAIN – “_

Sarah blushed as eyes turned toward her and Draco. Pansy and Blaise looked at them in question. They hadn’t known that the pair had stayed at The Burrow during the holidays.

Mrs Weasley’s voice was still shouting.

“ _– ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED – YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME._ ”

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron’s hands, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. Sarah couldn’t help herself – she broke out into sympathetic giggles. Both boys turned to glare at her.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled. “It’s just – your faces – “

Hermione closed the book she had been reading and looked down at the top of Ron’s head.

“Well, I don’t know what you expected, Ron, but you – “

“Don’t tell me I deserved it,” snapped Ron.

Before they could begin fighting again, another owl landed on the table. It hopped in front of Sarah and presented its leg to her.

She glanced around in surprise. “I’m not expecting any – oh no…”

The handwriting belonged to her father.

She pulled open the short letter and scanned it quickly. It included a snippet of today’s _Daily Prophet_ which featured the flying car.

_Daughter,_

_Maybe now you will think more carefully about those you associate with_.

She growled and began to tear the letter into pieces.

“Who – does – he – think – he – is – _the bastard!_ ” she hissed, each word accentuated by the ripping of the page. “I hate him! I _hate_ him!”

Draco placed a comforting hand over her own but didn’t say anything – Professor Snape had just arrived behind them.

“Miss Deaumont, Mr Malfoy, your timetables. Potter, Granger, Weasley – go back to your own table,” sneered Snape, handing over their timetables. Harry, Ron and Hermione scampered away as Sarah and Draco looked at their timetables.

“Ugh, Defense Against the Dark Arts first with Lockhart,” Draco said, lip curling with disgust.

“Excuse me while I go throw up,” Sarah stated.

“Let’s go, lovelies, we wouldn’t want to be late for Professor ‘I won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile’,” Pansy breezed, pulling Millicent behind her by the hand.

“Don’t remind me,” groaned Sarah as she allowed Blaise to pull her to her feet.

Harry waved at them as they left the hall, grimacing as a first-year bounced up to him and began to chatter excitedly at him. Harry mouthed “ _Help me”_ at Sarah and she laughed, waving a hand at him before leaving the hall.

By the time class ended, Sarah was ready to commit murder. The Slytherins made their way to Transfigurations which they shared with the Gryffindors.

“What’s with her?” Ron asked as Sarah stormed into the room, a thunderous expression on her face.

“We just had Lockhart and he made us answer a quiz about himself,” Draco explained, sitting down much more calmly next to the raging girl. “Sarah was not too pleased with his criticism of her answers.”

“What did you say?” Harry asked eagerly, taking the seat on Sarah’s other side.

“Just the truth!” She exclaimed. “That he was a self-conceited arsehole who couldn’t even tell one end of his wand from the other.”

Hermione gasped. “Sarah you shouldn’t say that! He knows what he’s doing!”

Before Sarah could snap back that Lockhart was a fraud and destined to ruin their education, Professor McGonagall stalked into the room.

“Settle down now. Miss Brown, hand out these beetles to everyone, please – don’t be ridiculous they won’t hurt you. Mr Weasley, don’t even attempt this spell with that wand – please work with Miss Granger instead.”

By the end of the lesson, Hermione was beaming with a handful of shining coat buttons and Ron was fuming.

“Stupid – useless – thing – “ He muttered, whacking his wand furiously on the desk.

“Write home for another one,” Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.

“Oh, yeah and get another Howler back,” said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag. “ _It’s your own fault your wand got snapped_ – “

Draco and Sarah joined the Gryffindors at their table for lunch, Ron glaring at the collection of gleaming buttons the Slytherins had successfully made in class.

“What’ve we got this afternoon?” Harry asked Hermione as they all sat down.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione answered at once.

“ _Why_ ,” demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, “have you outlined Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?”

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.

“Hermione, you need to realise he’s not who he says he is!” Sarah exclaimed beseechingly. “There’s no way he did half the stuff he said he did – there _is_ no spell to turn a werewolf back into a human. It’s impossible!”

“Sarah, he knows what he’s talking about,” argued Hermione.

“You just like him because he’s handsome,” said Draco sourly. “Why must someone who looks like him be such a self-centred git?”

“Draco, hun, the chances of finding someone as attractive as Lockhart who _doesn’t_ have his head so far up his own arse is statistically impossible,” Sarah sighed, patting the blond on his arm.

“One can hope,” Draco muttered under his breath.

“I for one do _not_ think he is handsome,” Sarah declared. “Cedric Diggory, on the other hand...”

“Did you say Diggory?” Pansy’s voice came from behind her. The girl in question fell into the seat beside Sarah and began piling her plate with food. “That boy is almost pretty enough to make even _me_ crush on him.”

Harry, unfortunately, had been taking a sip of pumpkin juice and promptly choked at Pansy’s comment. Sarah smacked him on the back a few times as he cleared his throat, blushing bright pink. Pansy looked extremely smug.

***

“We got on! WE GOT ON!” Sarah cried at dinner Friday night. She launched herself at Harry, who had been walking toward the Gryffindor table. He shouted and quickly caught her, staggering slightly under her sudden weight.

“What?” He asked dumbly, blinking in confusion.

“Quidditch!” Draco said excitedly. “We got on the team!”

“Really?” Harry beamed. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks!” Sarah said, dropping back to the ground and pulling the boys to their seats. “I got Chaser and Draco got Seeker.”

“Looks like we’ll be versing each other,” Draco smirked at Harry.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” Harry replied cheekily.

“Enough talking,” Sarah demanded. “ _Food_!”

“Honestly, Ronald, I don’t understand why you find it so difficult to eat without getting food everywhere.”

Hermione’s stern voice greet them as they sat down.

“I don’t understand why it’s any of your business,” Ron snapped.

“It’s disgusting!” Hermione exclaimed. “The least you can do is slow down a bit instead of shovelling everything into your mouth at once!”

Ron opened his mouth to reply but Sarah quickly interrupted.

“Guess who got on the Quidditch team?” She smiled at the two Gryffindors, who stopped their argument and turned to the Slytherins in sync.

“Congratulations!”

“Good job, mate!”

“Thank you. Now that’s over, I’d like to eat in peace,” Draco said primly, settling a napkin on his lap.

Harry stared at the blond in silence, his lips twitching as he looked at the napkin.

“Draco, darling, you sound like your mother,” Sarah said as she served herself another slice of lasagne.

Draco looked at her, aghast. “I most certainly do not sound like my – my _mother – “_ he spluttered.

“Sure,” said Sarah, shrugging with an innocent smile on her face.

The others watch in bemusement as Draco and Sarah fell into comfortable bickering, much more entertaining than Ron and Hermione sniping at each other.

“Deaumont!”

Professor Snape’s angry shout broke through Sarah’s good mood.

“Yes, Professor?” She asked tiredly.

“Your father contacted me – he wishes to speak with you.”

Sarah froze at the words, gaping silently at Draco.

“What – what – ?” she stuttered.

“Your father,” Professor Snape repeated, his tone dry as if he were speaking to a simpleton. “He has contacted me requesting to speak with you tomorrow -”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said no,” Sarah repeated. “I won’t speak with him.”

“But – “

“I don’t care if he comes and breaks down the bloody door,” she interrupted, standing. “I will _not_ speak to him and Merlin help me, if you make me, sir, I will go _straight_ to the Board of Governors.”

She was flushed and trembling by the time she finished. Shocked gasps and faces surrounded her and she cringed as she looked at her Potions Professor. His face was pale, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. Sarah was sure she was going to land in detention for the rest of her schooling career.

“All right, Miss Deaumont,” Professor Snape was finally. “I will let him know you are unavailable.”

Sarah stared in shock for a few seconds before Draco nudged her.

“Uh – erm…Thank you, sir…” she muttered weakly.

“Now, sit back down, dinner is almost over.” With those words, Professor Snape spun around, his robes flaring dramatically behind him, and marched back toward the teachers table.

Sarah stood in shock, staring blankly at where the Professor had been a moment ago. Harry gently reached for her arm and pulled her back into her seat.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Ron said, breaking the stunned silence.

“Why didn’t he do anything?” Hermione asked.

“He probably knows Sarah’s father,” Draco said, glancing at her. “Trust me, that’s enough for even Snape to be on her side.”

“I’m more curious as to why father was trying to contact me,” Sarah stated. “Two years no contact and suddenly he wants to be back in my life – not like he was ever really a part of it in the first place,” she added sourly, stabbing at a potato viciously.

No one had an answer to that.

Saturday morning dawned a beautiful mix of pink and blue. Not that Sarah or Draco could see it, stuck under the lake as they were. Instead, they were sitting in front of the fire, working through their Charms essay while sunlight trickled through the water, sending sparkling reflections across the common room.

“I still don’t understand why you woke me up so early,” Draco grumbled, writing a sentence with just a bit more force than was necessary.

“Well, I woke up, I couldn’t get back to sleep, so obviously I decided to wake you up and do homework,” Sarah grinned. “If I’m awake, then you’re awake.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“No I really, truly hate you. You woke me up before Goyle’s snores did. Do you know how early it has to be to achieve that? Too fucking early.”

“My, my, Draco, your language is atrocious this fine morning. You’ve been spending too much time with Pansy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Unfortunately, neither of us are interested.”

“You just wish you were. Also, _gross_ , Sarah – we’re twelve.”

“That doesn’t seem to be stopping Blaise.”

“Blaise has taken too much after his mother.”

“Alas, poor soul. I shudder to think what he will be like when he’s older, we may be required to tie him up.”

“I have a feeling he might like that.”

“Draco! Ew!”

Sarah punched Draco’s shoulder and they both dissolved into uncontrollable giggles.

They were interrupted by Marcus Flint, the Quidditch Captain, marching into the common room and shouting at them.

“Deaumont! Malfoy! Quidditch pitch in fifteen minutes! We’re having a practice!” He stormed out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Sarah and Draco quickly scurried to their respective dormitories to gather their things. Marcus Flint may have been thicker than a troll on a good day but by Merlin he was scary.

“Didn’t Harry mention something about practice last night?” Draco panted as they ran down to the pitch.

Sarah just shrugged in reply. They skidded to a halt about ten metres away from the pitch where the rest of the team was waiting.

“Good, you’re here,” Flint barked. “I’ve got a surprise for you all.”

Everyone exchanged confused glances. Usually a surprise in Slytherin meant nothing good.

“Mr Malfoy has made a generous contribution to the team,” Flint stated, reaching behind him to grab a pair of large bags. He placed them in front of the huddled team and pulled out a gleaming broom. “He has gifted us all _Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones_.” Flint had a wide smirk on his face as he admired his new broom.

Draco’s face had lost all its colour. He stood gaping at Flint, hands shaking at his sides.

“Malfoy, next time you talk to your father, thank him for me,” Flint smirked.

“Come on,” Sarah hissed, grabbing two brooms and pushing one at Draco’s chest. She took his arm and pulled him out of earshot of the team.

“How could he do this?” Draco whispered.

“He’s just trying to gain everyone’s favour,” Sarah said.

“No, he’s trying to make me _owe_ him. He’s furious about this summer,” replied Draco furiously. “And not only me, but you too! Your father obviously helped him plan this.”

“You’re probably right,” Sarah agreed grimly. “But we’re on the team, we can’t _not_ use them.”

“But what if I’m only on the team because my _father_ bought my way on?” Draco said, spitting the word ‘father’.

“Draco, you’re an excellent Seeker – you got on the team because of your skill, not your father,” Sarah said gently.

Draco looked angry and betrayed. “I can’t believe he would do something like this,” he muttered.

“It’s too late now for us to do anything,” said Sarah. “We just have to accept it and move on, okay?”

Draco was silent for a long time before he nodded. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, his face falling into a carefully sculpted mask. Sarah hadn’t seen him look like that since he told his father he was friends with Harry Potter.

“Malfoy! Deaumont! Let’s go!” Flint shouted.

Sarah smiled softly at Draco and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the team.

Loud voices met her ears and she peered in front of them in confusion.

“But we booked the pitch!” Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team Captain, was shouting at Flint.

“Ah, but I’ve got special permission from Professor Snape to train our new Seeker and Chaser,” Flint said smugly.

Sarah felt her face pale as the Gryffindor team looked at her and Draco. She caught Harry’s shocked green eyes and shook her head quickly.

“Oh look,” said Flint. “A field invasion.”

Ron and Hermione were crossing to grass to see what was happening.

“What’s going on?” asked Ron.

“Snape’s given them permission to use the field,” Harry explained.

Ron examined the Slytherin team, his eyes growing wide as he took in the brooms.

“What the – “ he gasped.

“Admiring our new brooms are you, Weasley?” Flint said nastily. “They were a gift from Draco’s father.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione all snapped their eyes to Draco, who looked as if he was wishing for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Draco, what does he mean?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Apparently, my father decided to buy new brooms for the entire team,” Draco confessed weakly.

Ron looked disgusted.

“So you just let your father buy your way onto the team?” Ron said harshly.

Hurt flashed in Draco’s eyes as he took a step back, expression shuttering closed.

“Ron!” Sarah snapped. “We didn’t know anything about it until a few minutes ago, you absolute pillock!”

“That’s just wrong, though!”

“Ronald, that’s enough, Draco’s our friend,” Hermione fumed.

“I still don’t know why you two are friends with a _mudblood_ ,” hissed Terence Higgs, one of Slytherins Chasers.

There was an instant uproar at his words. Fred and George jumped forward and had to be held back by their Chasers and Oliver Wood. Sarah shrieked, “ _How dare you!_ ”, and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulling out his wand and yelling, “You’ll pay for that one!” and pointed it at Higgs’ face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron’s wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards onto the grass.

“Ron! Ron! Are you all right?” squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

“Oh Merlin,” Sarah swore, pushing through the team to get to Ron’s side. Draco followed at a more subdued pace, still hurt from Ron’s previous words.

“We’d better get him to Hagrid’s, it’s nearest,” said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet with the help of Hermione.

“Deaumont, where do you think you’re going?” Flint called.

“To help my friend. Where did you think I was going, to smell the roses?” snarled Sarah.

“We have practice.”

“Tough,” she snapped. “Higgs should have thought about that before being an arse to Hermione.”

“Higgs didn’t throw that hex,” Flint stated.

“No, he was just a dick,” hissed Sarah. “Let’s go,” she said to the others, ignoring the surrounding teams.

The five of them quickly made their way across the field, trying to avoid the trail of slugs Ron was leaving.

“Oooh,” said a small first-year Sarah didn’t know. He raised a camera toward them. “Can you hold him still, Harry.”

Harry looked ready to punch the kid. “Get out of the way, Colin!” he said angrily.

“Nearly there, Ron,” said Hermione as the gamekeeper’s cabin came into view. “You’ll be all right in a minute – almost there – “

Sarah dropped back to walk alongside Draco, who still had a slight frown on his face.

“You’d think they would know to use a _Finite_ on him,” she muttered.

Draco didn’t smile. “He deserved it,” he said.

“Of course he did,” Sarah replied. “You don’t see me mentioning that little fact to them, do you?”

Draco’s lips finally twitched upwards slightly.

“Ron’s a git sometimes, you know that,” stated Sarah. “it doesn’t excuse what he said but just remember that.”

Draco sighed and nodded. “It just sucks because a part of me thinks he’s right.”

“Well, he’s not,” snapped Sarah.

“But father – “

“Your father is a bastard, Draco, but he did _not_ buy your way onto the team. You got on because of pure talent and anyone who says otherwise will get a punch to the face,” Sarah growled.

“I think you sometimes forget you’re a witch,” he laughed.

“It’s much more satisfying hitting someone.”

Draco laughed loudly and the pair joined the others in front of Hagrid’s door. The large man was looking down at Ron in slight confusion but he seemed unperturbed by the boy spewing slugs over the threshold.

“Better out than in,” Hagrid said cheerfully as he steered Ron into a large chair, handing a copper bucket to him. “Get ‘em all up, Ron.”

Ron groaned and hugged the bucket, his face a sickly green colour.

“Who was he tryin’ ter curse?” Hagrid asked.

“Terence Higgs,” Sarah said bitterly. “He called Hermione a _mudblood_.”

“He didn’!” Hagrid growled at Hermione in outrage.

“He did,” she said. “But I don’t know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course – “

“It means dirty blood,” Draco said suddenly. He kept his gaze trained on his teacup. “It’s a really foul name for someone who is Muggleborn. Old Pureblood families usually called Muggleborns that because they think they’re inferior – unworthy of magic.”

Draco and Sarah awkwardly avoided eye contact with the others. Sarah could vividly remember one dinner where her father had spat that word out talking about someone he worked with.

“Draco and I don’t believe that, though,” she said eventually into the silence. “Just our fathers.”

“Your fathers are bastards,” Harry said, echoing Sarah’s earlier words.

Draco scoffed. “Yep,” he said bitterly, looking at the brooms which they had propped up against the wall.

Ron followed his gaze and turned crimson. “I’m sorry about what I said, mate. I don’t actually think your father bought your way onto the team – you’re a really good player.”

“He just wants to have power over me,” Draco scowled.

“As I said before,” Sarah stated calmly, “there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Sarah’s right,” agreed Harry. “The best you can do is just accept the brooms and move on.”

***

It was nearly lunch by the time they said their goodbyes to Hagrid and made their way back towards the castle, Ron thankfully, slug free.

“Ron, honestly, you need to do something about your wand,” Hermione said as they neared the entrance hall.

“And how exactly do you suggest I do that, Hermione?” Ron questioned irritably.

“Ron…” Sarah reprimanded softly.

“No, Sarah,” Ron snapped. “I’d actually _love_ to hear some suggestions. I bet you reckon I should just pop over to Diagon Alley and buy a new wand, like _that_ ,” he snapped his fingers on the last word, a scowl forming deeply on his face.

“If it’s the money you’re worried about, I’ve already told you I don’t mind buying you a replacement,” stated Harry, a frown hovering over his face at Ron’s tone.

Ron scoffed and shook his head. “I’m not some charity case,” he spat. “I don’t need you or anyone dipping their hands into their deep pockets.”

“You wouldn’t be a _charity case_ , Ronald,” snapped Sarah hotly. “You’d be our friend that we wanted to help out. But if you’re going to be such a git about it then forget it!”

Ron’s retort died on his tongue as Professor McGonagall approached the group, her lips pinched together tightly.

“Potter, Weasley! There you are,” she said sternly. “You will both do your detentions this evening.”

“What’re we doing, Professor?” said Ron, turning his back on Sarah.

“ _You_ will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr Filch,” said Professor McGonagall. “And no magic, Weasley – elbow grease.”

Sarah felt smug at the idea of Ron having to suffer through detention with Argus Filch, the caretaker who was loathed by the entire school.

“And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail,” said Professor McGonagall, turning to the dismayed boy.

“Oh n – Professor, can’t I go and do anything else?” Harry begged. “I mean it, anything – I’ll even clean the Potions classroom.”

Draco choked on a suppressed laugh and turned away before the Transfiguration Professor could notice.

“Certainly not,” said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. “Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o’clock sharp, both of you.”

Harry and Ron both groaned. Sarah couldn’t find it in herself to pity the redhead and instead moulded her face into an icy glare.

“I’m getting lunch – I’ll see you later,” she said to Harry, Hermione, and Draco.

She spun on her heel and marched toward the Great Hall and the Slytherin table, not bothering to check if anyone was following her.

She slid into a seat in between Blaise and Theo, who both looked at her in confusion.

“Hello, Sarah,” Theo said tentatively.

“Hi,” she replied shortly.

“Damn, what’s got your wand in a knot?” asked Blaise.

Sarah viciously speared a slice of roast beef.

“Ronald Weasley,” she huffed, stabbing the meat repeatedly.

“And what has Gryffindor’s resident tactless git done now?” pondered Blaise, his lips twitching in amusement.

“He’s jealous that his family doesn’t have as much money as Harry, Draco and I and he acts like every time we want to help him that we’re only doing it because we think he’s a “ _charity case”_ ,” Sarah hissed, continuing to demolish her lunch. “It’s completely ridiculous and he has no right to treat us like that!”

Blaise and Theo exchanged a glance over her head and wisely decided to change the subject.

“So where’s your other half?” Blaise asked.

Sarah sighed. “Probably with Harry and Hermione,” she said. “I didn’t wait for them and don’t know if they followed me into the Hall.”

Theo scanned the Gryffindor table quickly.

“None of your partners-in-crime are there,” he commented.

Sarah lifted her head and looked at the other side of the Hall. Theo was right: Harry, Hermione and Draco weren’t there.

“As long as I don’t have to deal with Weasley anytime soon, I’m happy,” Sarah made known.

“Oooh, last names – some is _very_ angry,” Blaise quipped, ducking quickly as Sarah went to hit him.

“One more joke at my expense, Zabini, and you better be prepared to sleep with your eyes open tonight.”

“Who’s Sarah threatening now?”

The three Slytherin’s whipped their heads up to find Harry smiling down at them, Draco and Hermione flanking him.

“Weasley,” Blaise replied after a beat of silence. “Apparently he’s gone and offended the dear lady.”

“I am _warning you_ , Blaise!”

Draco laughed and settled in the seat across from Blaise, pulling Harry down beside him.

“I’m sorry about Ron, Sarah,” Hermione said, sitting herself down opposite Theo. “He really can be so rude sometimes.”

“The struggles of being one of the youngest in a large family,” Theo mused offhandedly. “Can’t say I particularly relate.”

“I doubt any of us can,” Draco noted. “We’re all only children.”

“Ugh and don’t our parents like reminding us,” Blaise muttered. “ _You are the sole heir to this family, young man! You absolutely cannot go out wearing those robes – they were fashionable last season!”_ He mocked in imitation of his mother’s shrill voice.

Sarah snorted into her juice. “Blaise, your mother has to be part harpy,” she teased. “There is no way someone’s voice is that shrill.”

“I think it’s part succubus, myself,” he replied flippantly. “You’ve seen how fast she goes through husbands.”

Draco, Theo, and Sarah burst into laughter, leaving Harry and Hermione trying to follow the conversation in confusion.

“What number is she on, this year?” Draco asked with a smirk.

Blaise put a finger to the side of his face as though he was deep in thought. “Seven, I believe. Although, this one doesn’t look like he will last that long so I’m betting by Christmas she’ll have her claws sunk deep into someone else.”

They all snickered while Hermione spluttered, “That’s horrible!”.

“Yes, but we’ve all come to accept Blaise’s mother’s tendencies, especially because there is never anything else but speculation,” Theo explained simply.

“I’m afraid it’s just an unfortunate side effect of our devastating beauty,” Blaise proclaimed.

“Yeah the beauty of a gnome, perhaps,” Draco uttered quietly, smirking at Blaise’s offended expression.

“You can’t talk, Draco – Your family _has_ to have a Veela somewhere in the family tree, what with those pointy features and unnaturally blond hair,” provoked Blaise. “I mean, who has _white_ hair!”

“I happen to think his hair has more of a silver sheen than white,” Harry interjected thoughtfully.

“My hair is platinum blond!” Draco spluttered in indignation. “It’s not that uncommon!”

“He’s right,” Hermione affirmed. “Many muggles find that colour to be particularly stylish and striking.”

“See!” declared Draco, “I’m _striking_.”

“Yes you are, darling,” Sarah acquiesced, patting Draco’s hand.

He looked smug then confused. “Wait a minute – _pointy features?_ “

The rest of lunch passed in a blur of good-natured bickering and snide comments and soon it was time to head to class. The afternoon classes passed quickly until Sarah, Draco and Hermione were waving Harry goodbye as he left for his detention – Sarah still wasn’t talking to Ron.

Sarah and Draco bid Hermione goodnight and descended into the Slytherin common room, groaning slightly at the thought of homework. They piled into their favourite chairs and began to attack the growing pile, scratching away into the quiet of the night.


	5. Chapter Five

Sarah looked up as Harry stomped through the portrait hole late one stormy Saturday afternoon, a few days before Halloween. He was dripping with rain and mud and had a thoroughly confused expression on his face.

“Did a bludger hit you in the back of the head, Potter?” Draco asked as Harry continued to stare blankly from across the room.

Harry blinked in surprise and made his way towards where Sarah, Hermione and Draco sat huddled at a table near the fire.

“What are you two doing here?” Harry said to the Slytherins.

“Studying, what does it look like we’re doing?” smirked Sarah. “What happened to you? You look like the team tried to drown you in the lake – were you not able to catch the snitch?”

“Ha-bloody-ha,” Harry muttered, dropping to the floor in front of the fireplace. “No, I ran into Nearly Headless Nick on the way back and he invited me to his deathday party on Halloween.”

“A deathday party?” said Hermione keenly. “I bet there aren’t many living people who can say they’ve been to one of those – it’ll be fascinating!”

“Sure, Hermione, _fascinating_ ,” scoffed Draco, ignoring the glare Hermione threw his way.

“Where’s Ron?” Harry asked, looking around for the redhead.

It was silent for a beat before Draco said, “He still refuses to apologise for being a git and chose not to sit with us.” He pointed toward the far corner where Ron was sitting at a table with Seamus and Dean.

Sarah huffed in annoyance. “It’s been weeks! Why can’t he just accept we wanted to help?”

“Are you talking about our delightful Ronnikins?”

Fred’s voice proceeded him as he and George suddenly appeared behind them.

“Yes,” Harry said. “He’s still being a git.”

“Well, that’s not anything different,” George commented, shrugging. “He’ll get over it soon.”

“Maybe…” Sarah muttered. She turned around to pin the twins with a firm look. “Also, don’t think I didn’t see you two spying on our practice yesterday. Next time you may want to improve your subterfuge by covering your hair – it’s bright enough to be a beacon.”

“Thank you, little snake,” Fred said without an ounce of remorse.

“We’ll keep that in mind for next time,” George continued. “Also, you snakes may want to hurry back to your den – Filch is in a right foul mood tonight.”

Harry flushed at these words but didn’t offer an explanation. Sarah and Draco sighed and began packing their stuff up. It would not do to get detention just because the caretaker is a cranky old geezer.

“Night guys,” said Draco as they left.

A round of goodbyes followed them out of the portrait hole.

Monday brought a whole new level of exhaustion for Sarah. Flint had made them get up at the crack of dawn on Sunday for another training session which didn’t finish until nearly lunch and by the time they finished, Sarah and Draco were beginning to worry about the pile of homework they had waiting for them in their dorms. The rest of Sunday afternoon and night was spent finishing essays and practising wand movements until they both collapsed on Draco’s bed in a heap of unconsciousness.

They had barely managed to wake up in time for breakfast and the day just got worse from there. First, her father sent her another letter warning her against her chosen friendships and calling her a ‘disappointment to her pureblood legacy’. She choked back the tears that threatened to make an appearance and instead scrunched the note up, throwing it onto her empty plate. Her mood lifted only slightly as she watched the parchment burn.

Next, Blaise, in the middle of enthusiastically re-enacting his most recent dream, waved his hand right into the goblet of pumpkin juice and sent it splashing all across Sarah and her finished Potions essay. Sodding wet and miserable, she stood up and left the hall, leaving her food, bag, and ruined assignment behind.

She sat down on the steps leading down the grounds and rested her head in her hands, tears of frustration pricking the backs of her eyes.

“Hey.”

Harry sat down beside her and handed her a warm bacon sandwich.

“I saw you leave the hall and thought you might need some comfort food,” he said, a small smile on his face.

Sarah took the sandwich and muttered her thanks.

“Your father is wrong, you know?” Harry said suddenly.

She glanced up to find the boy resolutely staring ahead at the lake.

“You’re not a disappointment or a burden,” he continued. Harry turned toward her and caught her eyes, green locking onto her altered grey. “Draco told me what your father writes to you,” he added sheepishly.

“The point is, who you are isn’t defined by him. If he had wanted anything to do with the person you became, he would have been around more – and that’s on him, not you,” Harry stated. “You’re a wonderful person, Sarah. An amazing friend, student, witch. Your mother would be really proud of you.”

Sarah inhaled sharply and continued to stare at Harry in silence. He grabbed her hand and held on tightly.

“It’s okay for you to have bad days,” he said. “If you need to cry, you can. If you need to shout, you should. Don’t let what others think get to you.”

Sarah closed her eyes and finally let the tears she had been holding back fall. Harry released her hand and wound his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body against his as she sobbed quietly. The stress of training, homework and her father had gotten to her at last, crumbling beneath a mental wall weakened by lack of sleep.

They stayed there until the bell rang for their first lesson. Sarah pulled back and wiped her face, blinking to clear the last of the tears.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said sincerely. “You’re my best friend and I’ll always be there for you. As will Draco and Hermione and, hell, even Ron when he isn’t being a stubborn git.”

Sarah laughed at that and stood up, cringing at her slightly damp robes.

“Here, let me,” Harry offered, standing up beside her and uttering a spell that immediately dried her robes. “Hermione taught me that spell last night,” he admitted with a slight blush at Sarah’s questioning look.

“Of course she did,” laughed Sarah. “Come on, let’s get to class.”

By dinner, Sarah felt in a much better mood. Draco had gotten one of the older students to dry her Potions essay and looked nervous when Sarah seemed as if she were about to burst into tears again in gratitude.

Her happy bubble was slightly punctured when Ron appeared at the Slytherin table.

“Sarah, can I talk to you, please?” he asked, eyeing the glaring Slytherins in trepidation.

Sarah saw Harry nod encouragingly from the Gryffindor table and said, “Fine, let’s go outside.”

The pair left and when they stepped into the entrance hall, Ron immediately turned toward her and blurted, “I’m really sorry for being such a git.”

Sarah stopped in shock but didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, you guys were just trying to help me out,” he went on, the tips of his ears were a bright red and clashed horribly with his hair. “I’m just – you know what I’m like when you guys talk about money – I really am sorry,” he finished lamely.

“Ron, you know that’s not an excuse,” said Sarah.

“I know, I know,” he rushed. “It’s just hard sometimes – I mean, you, Harry, and Draco come from three of the richest wizarding families.”

“But it doesn’t mean you get to treat us like shit when we’re just trying to be your friend,” snapped Sarah, crossing her arms in front of her.

“No, it doesn’t,” Ron agreed, eyes downcast. “You don’t have to forgive me – I’d like it if you did but you don’t have to. I just want you to know I _am_ sorry.”

Sarah stared at him until he began to fidget uncomfortably, face flaming red.

“Ugh,” she said, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. “You’re such an idiot but I forgive you. Don’t do it again.”

Ron breathed a sigh of relief and returned the hug.

“Now if you excuse me, I need to get back to the dinner you very ungraciously stole me from,” Sarah told Ron.

The boy laughed and followed her back into the Great Hall.

Sarah could safely say that her day had gotten _much_ better.

***

By the time Halloween arrived, Sarah was regretting Harry’s inability to say no to people. She and Draco had met the Gryffindors in the entrance hall and were now following them toward the dungeons, completely bypassing the Hall bustling with delicious food, laughter, and decorations.

“I can’t _believe_ you dragged us along for this,” Sarah hissed at Harry, tugging her cloak tighter around her.

“There was no way I was going alone,” Harry stated, shooting a glare at Sarah.

“Besides, a promise is a promise,” Hermione reminded them all bossily.

The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick’s party had been lined with candles, though the effect was far from cheerful: These were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own living faces. The temperature dropped with every step they took and the closer they got to their destination, the easier it was to hear what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

“Is that supposed to be _music_?” Ron whispered. They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

“My dear friends,” he said mournfully. “Welcome, welcome…so pleased you could come…”

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty social saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer.

“I hate you, Potter,” Sarah muttered, shivering.

“Shall we have a look around?” Harry suggested, ignoring Sarah.

“Careful not to walk through anyone,” said Draco nervously. They set off around the edge of the dance floor. They passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, the cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. Sarah wasn’t surprised to see the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains. He sometimes appeared in the common room in an attempt to scare the students.

“Oh no,” said Hermione, stopping abruptly. “Turn back, turn back, I don’t want to talk to Moaning Myrtle – “

Sarah’s head shot up as she caught sight of the ghost of a moody-looking young girl a few years older than them.

“Who?” Harry asked as Sarah and Hermione ushered them back quickly.

“She haunts one of the toilets in the girls’ bathroom on the second floor,” said Sarah.

“She haunts a _toilet_?”

“Yes. It’s been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. Usually, people try to avoid the bathroom altogether,” Hermione explained.

“Look, food!” said Ron, perking up at the sight of a buffet table.

“Ron – wait – “ Draco tried but the redhead was already off.

The others followed and nearly ran into Ron as he suddenly stopped, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mould and, in pride of place, an enormous grey cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words, SIR NICHOLAS DE MIMSY-PORPINGTON: DIED 31ST OCTOBER, 1492.

“Oh I _really_ hate you, Harry,” Sarah gagged, trying to shove down nausea that had suddenly risen in her stomach.

Harry ignored her again and watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

“Can you taste it if you walk through it?” Harry asked him.

“Almost,” said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.

“I expect they’ve let it rot to give it a stronger flavour,” said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

“Honestly, I don’t care,” Draco said, looking slightly green. “Can we move? I feel as if I’m about to be sick.”

Sarah nodded in agreement, not brave enough to open her mouth lest her lunch decided to make a reappearance.

She grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him as far away from the food as they could get. She found a quiet corner and huddled in it, wrapping her arms around herself for more warmth.

“Where are the others?” Draco asked, looking around.

“I th-thought they we-were r-right behind us-s,” Sarah stuttered, her teeth clattering together.

A loud shriek drew their attention back to the buffet where they saw Harry, Hermione and Ron hurrying away, red with embarrassment. Hermione saw them in the corner and directed the other boys.

“Wha-what happened?” Sarah asked.

“Peeves found us and then made Myrtle cry by saying we had been talking about her,” Hermione explained quickly, drawing close to Sarah.

“How much longer do we have to stay here?” said Ron, looking grumpy.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but stopped when Nearly Headless Nick drifted toward them through the crowd.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

“Oh, yes,” they lied.

“Although, Nick, I’m sorry but I think we’ll have to leave,” Harry said apologetically. He floundered for an excuse but was saved by Draco.

“Sarah has been extremely ill recently and the cold is detrimental to her recovery,” Draco lied smoothly. “The party has been riveting, though.”

“Of course, of course,” Nearly Headless Nick replied. “We wouldn’t want you getting any worse, Sarah. Thank you all for coming.”

They bid their goodbyes and walked as fast as they could out of the dungeons. Each step they took away from the party filled their bodies with warmth and it wasn’t until they were about to arrive in the entrance hall that Hermione and Sarah stopped shivering.

Harry stopped walking abruptly and his face suddenly drained of all colour.

“Harry, what is it?” Draco asked worriedly.

“It’s that voice again – “

“Voice? What voice?”

“The one I heard at my detention with Lockhart – shut up for a minute – “

Draco turned to Sarah in confusion and she shook her head, she didn’t know anything about a voice.

Harry stared intently around him, clutching at the wall for support.

“Listen!” said Harry urgently. The others froze and watched him. “This way,” he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. He sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Sarah, Draco, Ron, and Hermione clattering behind him.

“Harry, what’re we – “

“SHH!”

Harry paused, closing his eyes, and appeared to be listening intently to something.

“It’s going to kill someone!” Harry shouted, and ignoring the others bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of stairs three at a time, hurtling around the whole of the second floor.

Harry didn’t stop until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

“Harry, _what_ was that all about?” Sarah demanded, wiping sweat off her face. “I couldn’t see anything…”

But Draco gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

“ _Look_!”

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN  
OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Sarah inhaled sharply.

“Oh Merlin, _no_ ,” she muttered.

“What’s that thing – hanging underneath?” said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Sarah nearly slipped – there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Draco and Harry grabbed her and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on the dark shadow beneath it. All of them realised what it was at once, and leapt backwards with a splash.

Mrs Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn’t move. Then Sarah said, “We need to get out of here.”

She grabbed Harry’s arm and tried pulling him away.

“Shouldn’t we try and help – “ Harry began awkwardly.

“No,” Sarah snapped. “You need to get out of here, _now!_ ”

“What – “

“Trust me,” said Draco. “We don’t want to be found here – go!”

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. The sounds of hundreds of feet coming toward them made Sarah mutter a curse under her breath.

The noise died quickly when the spectators noticed their small group standing near the message and the hanging cat.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next Mudbloods!”

It was Vincent Crabbe. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his cruel face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

Sarah saw Pansy and Blaise staring at them in horror and knew without a doubt that there was no way they could talk their way out of this.


	6. Chapter Six

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?”

Argus Filch suddenly appeared from within the crowd, obviously drawn by Crabbe’s shout. He saw Mrs Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

“My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs Norris?” he shrieked.

And then his popping eyes fell on them.

“ _You_!” he screeched. “ _You!_ You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll – “

“ _Argus_!”

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene but Sarah couldn’t find it within herself to be relieved. Judging by the other’s faces, neither could they.

In a matter of seconds, the Headmaster had swept past their group and detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

“Come with me, Argus,” he said to Filch. “You five as well.”

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

“My office is closest, Headmaster – Just upstairs – please feel free – “

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” said Professor Dumbledore.

Complete silence reigned over the corridor as the desolate group walked through the crowd of students, quickly followed by Professors McGonagall and Snape.

Sarah barely noticed what Lockhart was rambling about once they arrived at his office. She was too distracted and disgusted by the multitudes of portraits of Lockhart covering the walls. She saw Ron and Draco cringe at the pictures, their faces still very, _very_ pale.

The five of them tried to stay as far away from the adults as possible and yet, with the heavy blanket of silence covering the room, it was impossible to miss Dumbledore’s words.

“She’d not dead, Argus,” he said softly.

“Not dead?” choked Filch. “But why’s she all – all stiff and frozen?”

“She has been Petrified,” said Dumbledore. “But how, I cannot say…”

“Ask _him_ ,” shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

“No second year could have done this,” said Dumbledore firmly. “It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced – “

“He did it, he did it!” Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. “You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found – in my office – he knows I’m a – I’m a – “ Filch’s face worked horribly. “He knows I’m a Squib!” he finished.

“I’ve never _touched_ Mrs Norris!” Harry said loudly. “And I don’t even know what a Squib _is_.”

Sarah shot him a confused look but he shook his head, glancing away as Professor Snape stepped forward.

“if I might speak, Headmaster,” said Snape. “Potter and his friends may have been simple in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he continued, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. “But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn’t he at the Halloween feast?”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all launched into an explanation about the deathday party while Sarah and Draco remained quiet.

“But why not join the feast afterwards?” said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Why go up to that corridor?”

“Because – “ Harry started uncertainly.

“Because I was feeling ill from the cold of the party,” Sarah interrupted, her voice strong and even. “I’ve been feeling unwell for the past few days and the presence of hundreds of ghosts caused me to react badly. We were heading up to the Gryffindor common room to warm up and complete our homework.”

“Why were you on that corridor in particular, though?” Snape continued to question, his eyes darting to Sarah. “It is not the most direct route, especially if you intended to get warm as soon as possible.”

“I just told you,” Sarah said evenly. “I was feeling ill. I suddenly felt nauseous and asked if we could stop quickly at a bathroom. That was when we stumbled upon Mrs Norris and the writing.”

Dumbledore was giving them a searching look, focusing particularly on Harry.

“Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,” he said firmly. “However, I do believe that they were simply in the wrong place at a most unfortunate time.”

Snape looked furious. So did Filch.

“My cat has been Petrified!” he shrieked, his eyes popping grotesquely. “I want to see some _punishment_!”

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” said Dumbledore patiently. “Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs Norris.”

“I’ll make it,” Lockhart butted in. “I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep –“

“Excuse me,” said Snape icily. “But I believe I am the Potions master at this school.”

There was a very awkward pause wherein Sarah barely managed to cover a laugh with a quiet cough. Draco glared from beside her.

“You five may go,” Dumbledore said to them. “To your _separate_ common rooms, if you please.”

They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. When they were near a staircase far, far away from Lockhart’s office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them.

“Do you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?” Harry asked quietly.

“No,” said Ron, Draco, and Sarah without hesitation.

“Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the Wizarding world,” Ron continued.

Something in Ron’s voice must have unsettled Harry because he asked, “You do believe me, don’t you?”

“’Course I do,” said Ron quickly. “But – you must admit it’s weird…”

“Harry, we’re not doubting you,” Sarah interjected quickly with a sharp glare at Ron. “The real problem is the Chamber of Secrets. I think I’ve heard of it but I can’t remember where exactly.”

“Me too,” Draco added. He turned his grey eyes on Harry, who looked visibly relieved that they believed him. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. If Snape checks the common room and Sarah and I aren’t there, we’ll be in so much trouble.”

“Good point,” said Hermione. “You better go. We’ll tell you anything we think of at breakfast.”

Sarah and Draco said their hasty goodbyes before rushing down to the common room. They had just thrown themselves into their usual seat before the fire, next to a startled Pansy and Blaise, when the common room door opened and Professor Snape stepped in, dark eyes scanning the room before resting on them. His face remained impassive as they stared back at him until he whirled around and left without a word.

“That was weird,” Blaise commented, staring at the place their Head of House had previously stood.

“Forget that!” Pansy hissed. “What the hell happened up there?”

Sarah and Draco glanced at each before telling them what had happened, albeit a slightly edited version.

“Have either of you heard about the Chamber of Secrets?” Sarah asked.

Blaise shook his head but Pansy hesitated.

“I think I heard my father mention it once, years ago,” she said.

Sarah sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of,” she admitted, staring gloomily at the fire.

***

For a few days, the attack was the only thing the school could talk about. Filch kept it fresh in everyone’s minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. The words still gleamed brightly on the wall, despite Filch’s and the teacher’s attempts to remove it.

They hadn’t found anything regarding the Chamber and Draco had even gone as far as sending his mother a letter, asking her if she knew anything of it.

Ginny Weasley seemed very disturbed by Mrs Norris’s fate. According to Ron, she was a great cat lover.

“But you haven’t really got to know Mrs Norris,” Ron told her bracingly. “Honestly, we’re much better off without her.” Ginny’s lips trembled. “Stuff like this doesn’t often happen at Hogwarts,” Ron assured her. “They’ll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he’s got time to Petrify Filch before he’s expelled. I’m only joking – “ Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched.

Sarah had merely shaken her head and smacked Ron up the back of his head for his stupidity. She had spent a few minutes calming Ginny down before sending her along to class.

The attack had also had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but she was now doing almost nothing else. Sarah and Draco joined her more often than not, the three of them pouring over various history books while Ron and Harry sat dejectedly at the table.

Sarah and Draco walked into the library after a Potions lesson to find Ron sitting at a table trying to complete his History of Magic homework.

“I don’t believe it, I’m still eight inches short…” said Ron furiously, letting go of his parchment, which sprang back into a roll. “And Hermione’s done four feet seven inches and her writing’s _tiny_. How much have two done?”

“Five feet,” Draco answered, reaching into his bag and pulling out his scroll. Ron looked on in disbelief, mouth gaping open.

“How on earth can you write that much?” he exclaimed quietly, eyes darting around for the hawkish librarian, Madam Pinch.

“It’s interesting,” Draco shrugged. “And if you can find the right books, you basically get all the information. At least a foot of this is just my own opinions surrounding the Assembly. Did you know that in 1374, European Wizards refused to form an Assembly because they deemed it too _Greek_ , even though their civilisation was based off theirs…”

Sarah ignored Draco’s history rant and smirked as she watched Ron’s eyes begin to glaze over. She pulled her own scroll from her bag and was just editing through it when Harry arrived, sitting down beside her.

“Hey. Where’s Hermione?” he said, looking around in confusion at the massive pile of books beside Ron.

Ron perked up, having an excuse to interrupt Draco’s rant. “Somewhere over there,” he said, pointing along the shelves. “Looking for another book. I think she’s trying to read the whole library before Christmas.”

Sarah half-listened as Harry told them about how he had bumped into Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had run away from him.

“It’s probably because he’s scared of you,” Draco pointed out, continuing to write notes on the bottom of his homework.

“What?”

“Finch-Fletchley,” Sarah said without looking up from her work. “He’s muggleborn and probably thinks you’re the Heir of Slytherin, thanks to all the rumours.”

She glanced up to see Harry’s face darken.

“Harry, the rumours are ridiculous. Only idiots are actually believing them,” she assured. “Hey Draco, did you talk about the similarities between the Assembly and the Greek and Roman consulates?” she asked, searching blindly for the book she had seen on the table.

Draco passed it to her while scanning his work.

“No, only the Greek one because I thought it reflected it more accurately,” he said.

“Oh okay, I was also talking about the differences,” she mentioned.

Draco looked down at her paragraph. “That’s a good idea actually, I might add some more thoughts at the bottom.”

“Mate, you already have five feet worth of information,” Ron said, aghast. “Surely, you don’t need anything else.”

Draco glanced up at the redhead. “It’s relevant information,” he countered.

Ron just groaned and turned pleading eyes on Harry.

“Harry, please tell me you haven’t written more than three-feet for this assignment,” Ron beseeched.

“Erm – “ Harry said haltingly. “I think I’m just over,” he admitted. “Sarah and Draco helped me.”

“Merlin’s balls,” groaned Ron. “I’m surrounded by closeted Ravenclaws.”

“What’s Ron groaning about now?” Hermione asked as she appeared back at the table.

“He’s annoyed that Draco, Harry and I all managed to write more than three-feet for the history essay,” Sarah replied, finishing off her final sentence with a flourish and tapping her wand to the paper, drying the ink.

“Is that all?” Hermione teased, ignoring Ron’s disgruntled expression. “We have another issue though,” she stated seriously. “ _All_ the copies of _Hogwarts: A History_ have been taken out. And there’s a two-week waiting list. I _wish_ I hadn’t left my copy at home, but I couldn’t fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books.”

Sarah and Draco both cringed at the mention of Lockhart.

“Hermione, if I knew you wanted a copy you could have just asked me, I have mine,” Sarah stated.

“Why do you want it?” said Harry.

“The same reason everyone else wants it,” said Hermione, “to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.”

“What’s that?” said Harry quickly.

“That’s just it. I can’t remember,” said Hermione, biting her lip. “And I can’t find the story anywhere else.”

“It’s no use, Hermione,” Draco said. “Sarah and I already checked. It just mentions that the Chamber was opened once before and that it was supposedly connected to the founders. Other than that it was pretty useless.”

Hermione looked put out that a book couldn’t provide the answers she wanted.

“Hermione, let me read your composition,” said Ron desperately, checking his watch. They had History of Magic next.

“No, I won’t,” said Hermione, suddenly severe. “You’ve had ten days to finish it – “

“I only need another two inches, come on – “

The bell rang. Ron and Hermione led the way to History of Magic, bickering.

The only reason Sarah managed to stay awake during History of Magic was by reading her textbook and take notes from that. She couldn’t stand Professor Binns droning voice – he tended to talk without pause, due to him being a ghost – and instead opted to ignore it. Draco was more resilient; possessing an impressive ability to be able to follow along with an utterly boring conversation, trained into him since he could walk. They had an agreement: Sarah would write notes from the book and Draco would write notes from Binns. Then they would cross-reference the notes to see if there was anything extra they needed to know.

This lesson; however, turned out quite differently to others. It began as boring as ever until Hermione suddenly put her hand up.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

“Miss – er - ?”

“Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets,” said Hermione in a clear voice.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Pansy’s head came up off from Blaise’s shoulder and Neville’s elbow slipped off his desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

“My subject is History of Magic,” he said in his dry, wheezy voice. “I deal with _facts_ , Miss Granger, not myths and legends.” He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued. “In September of the year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers – “

He stuttered to a halt. Sarah’s hand was waving in the air now.

“Yes – Miss – ?”

“Deaumont, sir,” she said quickly. “Isn’t it true that legends always have a basis in fact? I remember you mentioning about a treaty created by warlocks in the early tenth century, yet when one looks back further into its creation, they can see that the foundations of the treaty were identical to a Scandinavian myth dated back into early BC times.”

Professor Binns, and the majority of the class, stared at her in shock.

“So, judging by that, sir, wouldn’t you say that _technically_ your subject does deal with myths and legends due to their impact on historical events?” Sarah asked innocently, ignoring Hermione and Harry’s beaming faces.

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement that Sarah was sure no student had ever interrupted him before or questioned him for that matter.

“Well,” said Professor Binns slowly, “yes, one could argue that, I suppose.” He peered at Sarah as though he had never seen a student properly before. “However, the legend of which you speak is such a very _sensational_ , even _ludicrous_ tale – “

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns’ every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. He looked completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

“Oh, very well,” he said slowly. “Let me see…the Chamber of Secrets…”

He paused for a long moment, everyone waiting with bated breath.

“You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago – the precise date is uncertain – by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much prosecution.”

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

“For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more _selective_ about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.”

Sarah listened to the words with a slight scowl on her face. Binns was making it seem like Slytherin was the only one who had problems with Muggleborns. Not only that, but his words were also making more than a few Gryffindors glance at the Slytherins distrustfully. She concentrated on him when he began speaking again.

“Reliable historical sources tell us this much,” he said. “But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.”

“Sir,” Sarah said suddenly, “is there any proof that Slytherin was alone in his beliefs or that it was him, himself that had a problem with Muggleborns?” Dean Thomas shot her a nasty look which she ignored, ploughing on. “If you check the school records, it shows that Muggleborns and Half-bloods have been in Slytherin since the school’s foundation. If Slytherin detested Muggles and Muggleborns that much, surely he would not have allowed them in his own House?”

“How have you been able to examine school records dating back that far, Miss Dooly?” Professor Binns asked, a sceptical air about him. “I guess your parents would have told you about them, from what they had learnt from their House?”

“Deaumont,” she bit out, trying not to lose her temper at his subtle accusations. “And no, _Professor_ , my mother mentioned them due to her historical work with the _L'Institut d'histoire de la Magie_ after her graduation.” She smirked at the slightly astonished look on the Professor’s pearly-white face and couldn’t help adding one more jab. “Also, my mother was a Gryffindor, for your information, _sir_.”

Professor Binns coughed awkwardly before answering her question.

“No, Miss Deaumont. There is no set evidence which confirms that Slytherin was alone in his beliefs,” he admitted hesitantly.

Sarah sat back in her chair, pleased with herself. Draco was staring at her in amazement, his grey eyes sparkling brightly. Ron and a few other Gryffindors looked dumbstruck by her words and the Slytherins were all watching her with varying levels of awe and pride. It was one thing for a Professor to actively call out the Founder of a House, it was another for a student to comprehensively defend it. Hermione was writing down notes quickly and Harry was sitting in shock, staring at Sarah with his mouth open slightly.

“Well, anyway,” said Professor Binns, coughing again and successfully drawing the class’s attention back to him once again. “The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course,” he said. “Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible.”

Hermione’s hand was back in the air.

“Sir – what exactly do you mean by the ‘horror within’ the Chamber?”

“That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control,” said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

“I tell you, the thing does not exist,” said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. “There is no Chamber and no monster.”

“But, sir,” said Seamus Finnigan, “if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin’s true heir, no one else _would_ be able to find it, would they?”

“Nonsense, O’Flaherty,” said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. “If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven’t found the thing – “

“But, Professor,” piped up Parvati Patil, “you’d probably have to use Dark magic to open it – “

“Why do you say that, Parvati?” Harry asked suddenly.

Parvati spluttered suddenly, obviously not expecting the question.

“Are you saying that just because Slytherin was a _Slytherin_ that automatically it means he was as Dark wizard?” said Harry, glaring at the girl. She wasn’t given an opportunity to do more than shake her head quickly before Professor Binns interrupted.

“Enough of that Mr Partum. Just because a wizard _doesn’t_ use Dark Magic does not mean he _can’t_ , Miss Pennyfeather,” snapped Professor Binns. “I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore – “

“But maybe you’ve got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn’t – “ began Dean, but Professor Binns had had enough.

“That will do,” he said sharply. “It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to _history_ , to solid, believable, verifiable _fact_!”

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.

***

“I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony,” Ron told them as they fought their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson. “But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff – “

Sarah stopped in her tracks, whirling around to face the redhead, rage causing her hands to shake.

“Did you not listen to a _thing_ I said, Ronald?” she hissed at him, causing him to step back. “There is no proof that Salazar Slytherin was alone in his beliefs! It was extremely common at that time due to the continual persecution of magic-folk by Muggles. For Merlin’s sake, your ancestors would have believed the same!”

She turned her back on him and marched toward the Great Hall, ignoring Ron’s calls of her name and apologies.

Harry and Draco caught up with her in the entrance hall.

“Hermione pulled him aside to tell him off,” Harry stated, narrowly dodging a tall sixth year Ravenclaw with their head in a book.

They headed toward the Gryffindor table to eat, barely sitting down before a small figure appeared behind Harry.

“Hiya, Harry!” it squeaked.

“Hullo, Colin,” said Harry, seemingly automatically.

“Harry – Harry – a boy in my class has been saying that you’re the Heir of Slytherin. I told him he was ridiculous, you’re a Gryffindor, how could you be the Heir of _Slytherin_ – anyway he didn’t believe me but I know you’re not. You would never hurt anyone!” Colin said, all in one breath.

“Uh – thanks, Colin,” Harry said.

“No problem! See you, Harry!” Colin squeaked, bouncing away to the other end of the table where a group of first-years sat.

Sarah and Draco looked at Harry in amazement.

“So who was that bouncing explosion of energy?” Draco asked, one perfect pale eyebrow raised.

“Colin Creevey,” Harry sighed. “He’s a first-year who’s obsessed with me.”

“Yes, he does seem quite _enamoured_ ,” Sarah teased as Hermione and Ron joined them at the table.

Ron apologised to Sarah and Draco for his thoughtless words and they began discussing what Professor Binns had said.

“D’you _really_ think there’s a Chamber of Secrets?” Ron asked Hermione, Sarah, and Draco.

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, frowning. “I haven’t read enough to have a solid opinion.”

“Regardless,” Draco interjected. “Dumbledore couldn’t cure Mrs Norris – which means either a potion, obscure spell or something else was used to Petrify her. Along with Professor Snape, Dumbledore would have been able to determine if a potion or spell were used. Considering that they haven’t, the only logical option is to believe that the Petrification was a result of a creature or potentially a cursed object.”

“We can’t do anything even if we knew what attacked Mrs Norris,” Sarah said sternly. “There’s no reason discussing anything about whether it’s possible or not, we just have to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary and stay out of trouble.”

On their way back the Gryffindor common room after dinner, where they were planning on spending the rest of the night completing their homework, they found themselves at the end of the corridor where Mrs Norris was attacked.

Immediately, Sarah saw the gleam in Harry’s eye.

“No way, Potter,” she said. “There’s no way we’re going to investigate.”

“It can’t hurt to have a poke around,” he countered, already stepping down the hallway.

“ _Gryffindors_ ,” Sarah muttered, shaking her head.

“If you get us in trouble I’m not helping you with your homework for the rest of the year,” Draco threatened Harry.

The dark-haired boy didn’t listen, instead dropping to his knees to examine something on the floor.

“Look! Scorch marks!” he said.

“Brilliant, that’s really helpful,” Sarah muttered grumpily.

“Come and look at this!” said Hermione. “This is funny…”

They grouped around Hermione, who was pointing at the topmost windowpane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

“Have you ever seen spiders act like that?” said Hermione wonderingly. Sarah and Draco shook their heads.

“No,” said Harry, “have you, Ron? Ron?”

They looked over their shoulders to find Ron standing well back, seeming to be fighting the impulse to run.

“What’s up?” said Harry.

“I – don’t – like – spiders,” said Ron tensely.

“I never knew that,” said Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. “You’ve used spiders in Potions loads of times…”

“I don’t mind them dead,” said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. “I just don’t like the way they move…”

Draco and Hermione laughed slightly.

“It’s not funny,” said Ron, fiercely. “If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my – my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick…You wouldn’t like them either if you’d been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and…”

He broke off, shuddering. Draco was obviously still trying not to laugh.

“Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone’s mopped it up.” Harry said.

“It was about here,” said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past the chair Filch had set up and pointing. “Level with this door.”

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he’d been burned.

“What’s the matter?” said Harry.

“Can’t go in there,” said Ron gruffly. “That’s a girls’ toilet.”

“It must be Moaning Myrtle’s,” Sarah said, stepping forward to open the door. “Come on, no one will be in there, it’s out-of-order, remember?”

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom she had ever seen. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

A ghostly figure of a young girl only a few years older than them was floating out of the end stall.

“Hello, Myrtle, how are you today?” Hermione asked politely.

“This is a _girls’_ bathroom,” she said, eyeing Ron, Harry, and Draco suspiciously. “ _They’re_ not girls.”

“And we’re all the more grateful that they aren’t,” said Sarah smoothly, directing Myrtle’s attention to herself. “We wanted to ask if you saw anything strange the night of Halloween? A cat was attacked right outside.”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” said Myrtle dramatically. “Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to _kill_ myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m - that I’m – “

“Already dead,” said Ron helpfully.

“ _Ronald!_ ” Sarah hissed.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, vanishing from sight.

“Excellent job, Weasley,” said Draco sarcastically. “You really flattered her.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Ron grumbled, heading back toward the door.

Harry had just closed the door on Myrtle’s gurgling sobs when a loud voice made them all jump.

“RON!”

Percy Weasley had stopped dead at the head of the stairs, Prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock on his face.

“That’s a _girls’_ bathroom!” he gasped.

“So we’ve been told multiple times,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“What were _you_ – ?”

“Just having a look around,” Ron shrugged. “Clues, you know – “

Sarah groaned and put her head in her hands.

Percy swelled in a manner that reminded Sarah forcefully of Mrs Weasley.

“Get – away – from – there – “ Percy said, striding toward them and starting to bustle them along, flapping his arms. “Don’t you _care_ what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone’s at dinner – “

“Why shouldn’t we be here?” said Ron hotly, stopping short and glaring at Percy. “Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!”

“That’s what I told Ginny,” said Percy fiercely, “but she still seems to think you’re going to get expelled, I’ve never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of _her_ , all the first years are thoroughly overexcited by this business – “

“ _You_ don’t care about Ginny,” said Ron, whose ears were now reddening. “ _You’re_ just worried I’m going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy – “

“Five points from Gryffindor!” Percy said tersely, fingering his prefect badge. “And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more _detective work_ , or I’ll write to Mum!”

And he strode off, the back of his neck as red as Ron’s ears.

***

“Do you think Crabbe could be the Heir of Slytherin?” Ron asked randomly that night in the Gryffindor common room.

Sarah had finished her homework and was resting before the fire, letting Harry practice braiding her hair. Ron’s question jolted her out of her stupor.

“What?” she asked in surprise. She kicked Draco gently, who had been dozing next to her. He blinked blearily as he listened to Ron’s next words.

“Crabbe – he hates Muggleborns, he’d love for them to be frightened out of Hogwarts!” Ron said.

“I don’t see how he could be the Heir of Slytherin though,” disagreed Sarah.

“His whole family has been Slytherin; they’re definitely evil enough to do something like this,” Ron countered.

“Ron, _our_ families have all been in Slytherin,” Draco sleepily stated. “With the exception of Sarah’s mother of course.”

“Does that make them evil enough?” Sarah asked, tilting her head at the redhead.

“No!” Ron said quickly, flushing red.

“You wouldn’t be wrong if you had said yes,” Sarah snorted.

“Anyway, how would we prove whether or Crabbe was the Heir of Slytherin?” Draco asked. “It’s not like Sarah and I can just go up and ask him. He’d sooner throw a hex than an answer.”

“Polyjuice Potion,” Hermione suggested.

“What’s that?” Harry and Ron asked together.

“Honestly, you two are incorrigible sometimes,” Sarah lamented.

“Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago – “ Hermione started.

“D’you think we’ve got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?” muttered Ron.

“And this is why you’re nearly failing, Weasley,” Draco calmly noted.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Harry said, interrupting the brewing fight between the other two boys, “how would this help us get answers?”

“It transforms you into somebody else,” said Hermione excitedly. “Think about it! We could change into three of the Slytherins and then Sarah and Draco could let us into the common room. No one would know it was us. Crabbe would probably tell us anything. He’s probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, considering that Sarah and Draco are here.”

“I don’t know, Hermione,” Draco said slowly, glancing at Sarah. “I think we would have heard something if Crabbe was saying anything like that.”

“Well, you are known to be friends with us! It wouldn’t make sense to tell you that he had been bragging about being the Heir of Slytherin when you could go and tell us,” Hermione argued.

“You guys can decide to do what you want, I don’t want to be a part of it,” stated Sarah, resting back against the couch. “I’ll keep an ear out for any news and I’ll help let you into the common room, but other than that I want nothing to do with it.”

Draco nodded in agreement. “Me too, we can’t risk it.”

Hermione frowned but acquiesced. Draco leant his head down to rest in Harry’s lap and slowly drifted off again while the other boy resumed braiding Sarah’s hair. The night went on with only the noise of the crackling fire to be heard.


	7. Chapter Seven

The day of the Slytherin vs Gryffindor Quidditch match dawned bright and clear. Sarah sat huddled beside Draco at the Slytherin table with the rest of the team. She saw Harry arrive in the hall and offered him a weak smile and received one in return. Nerves made her stomach churn sickeningly but Draco forced her to eat a piece of buttered toast.

“Let’s go,” Flint said gruffly, standing up and leading the team out of the Great Hall and toward the Quidditch Pitch.

Sarah and Draco sat next to each other in the locker room. Sarah’s knee was bouncing up and down quickly as she listened to Flint’s last-minute speech. Draco rested his hand on top of her knee and she stopped her fidgeting, drawing in a deep breath as they grabbed their brooms and got ready to enter the pitch. It was the first game that Sarah and Draco would be playing.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers from the Slytherins in the crowd but boos could be heard from the other houses. Sarah saw the Gryffindor team arrive opposite them to loud cheers from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and a small part of her was sad that Slytherin didn’t get as much support due to their reputation.

Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

“On my whistle,” said Madam Hooch. “Three…two…one…”

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upwards, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Sarah noticed as Harry and Draco flew higher than the others, looking around for the gold snitch. She quickly turned her attention back to the game as the Quaffle was thrown her way. She zipped between the Gryffindor Chasers and threw the Quaffle to Adrian Pucey. Lee Jordan’s commentary registered at the back of her mind but she shoved it from her thoughts, only letting the current game dominate her mind.

She had just managed to score when she heard a sudden shout from above. Fred and George were flying close to Harry, hitting furiously at a Bludger that kept coming straight back toward them.

Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out and Sarah dived to the ground to meet her team.

“What’s going on?” she demanded over the shouts of the crowd.

“Someone’s tampered with a Bludger,” Draco shouted. “It won’t leave Harry alone.”

“What? He can’t keep playing!”

“Do you think that’s going to stop him?”

“Deaumont, forget about Potter, it’s his choice to keep playing,” Flint said harshly. “If anything, it’s better for us, it means Malfoy has more time to look for the Snitch without Potter interfering.”

“But what if he gets seriously injured?” she asked.

“Then Madam Pomfrey will fix him up,” Flint shrugged, turning away as their timeout ended. “Concentrate on the game, Deaumont!”

She growled and mounted her broom, flying quickly back into position and keeping half an eye on Harry. The whistle blew again and play commenced, quickly distracting her. Slytherin was leading one hundred to forty when suddenly she heard a loud shout from the crowd. She whipped around to see Harry swerve out of the way of the Bludger, holding his right arm close to his body. He squinted ahead of him and put on a sudden burst of speed, shooting past Draco, and reaching out with his left grab, grabbing onto something shiny before veering toward the ground.

Sarah screamed and shot toward him, followed closely by Draco, Fred, and George. She distantly heard the ending whistle as she reached the ground, jumping down just as Harry slammed into the mud in front of her.

She fell to her knees and rolled him over, carefully avoiding touching his arm.

“Aha,” he said vaguely, eyes staring unfocused through her. “We’ve won.”

And then he fainted.

Sarah felt Draco slam down beside and gasp loudly.

“He needs Madam Pomfrey!” She heard him shout to someone behind them.

Harry suddenly groaned and opened his eyes.

“Harry! Look at me!” Sarah told him, gripping his chin in her hand. “No, don’t go back to sleep. HARRY!”

He groaned again and focused pain-filled green eyes on hers. They flicked away behind her briefly before closing.

“Oh, no, not you,” he moaned.

“What – “

“Doesn’t know what he’s saying,” said Lockhart from beside her.

She twisted with a curse, she hadn’t noticed that Lockhart had taken Draco’s place.

“Not to worry at all. I’m about to fix your arm, Harry.”

“ _No!_ ” Harry and Sarah shouted at the same time.

“I’ll keep it like this, thanks…” Harry muttered.

“He needs a trained professional,” snarled Sarah. “ _Not you_.”

A familiar clicking noise sounded from behind them.

“COLIN!” shouted Sarah. “DO NOT TAKE PICTURES OF THIS!”

“Lie back, Harry,” said Lockhart soothingly. “It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times – “

“Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?” said Harry through clenched teeth.

“I’m trying to make sure you do,” Sarah assured. “Draco’s gone to get help.”

“He really should, Professor,” said a muddy Oliver Wood, who couldn’t help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. “Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I’d say – “

“WOOD!” Sarah shrieked. “He’s hurt! The least you can do is help me take him to the hospital wing instead of standing there, _grinning_ – “

But she was cut off by Harry groaning miserably. She whirled around in time to see Lockhart pale slightly, his toothy grin faltering.

“Ah,” he said. “Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That’s the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing – ah, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? – and Madam Pomfrey will be able to – er – tidy you up a bit.”

Sarah slowly looked down at Harry’s arm and saw red. Lockhart hadn’t mended Harry’s bones – he had removed them.

Rage rose up in Sarah suddenly and she stood, facing her Defense Professor who cowered slightly under her gaze.

“You complete and utter IDIOT!” she growled. “You _useless_ excuse for a teacher! ’A _simple charm_ ’ you said, ‘used it _countless_ times’ – HOW ON EARTH DID YOU MANAGE TO _REMOVE_ THE BONES INSTEAD OF _MEND_ THEM? ONLY A CONCEITED, ARROGANT, _DIM-WITED IMBECILE_ COULD HAVE ACHIEVED WHAT YOU JUST DID! I AM _TWELVE_ AND EVEN I KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MENDING AND REMOVING BONES, YOU DUNDERHEAD!”

Shocked students surrounded them as she raged at the Professor, and yet no one stopped her.

Eventually, Draco placed a hand gently on her arm, effectively tampering her rage down into a small ball in her chest.

She threw one more hate-filled glare at Professor Lockhart before marching through the crowd, Draco at her side.

Professor Snape stood at the exit to the pitch, his face a blank mask.

“Not now, Professor, please,” Sarah said, exhaustion beginning to weigh on her.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he drawled, a smirk twisting half of his thin lips. He moved out of the way, allowing the pair to pass.

As they exited the pitch, Sarah could have sworn she heard a quiet, “ten points to Slytherin”, from behind her.

***

Sarah entered the hospital wing to see Harry in bed, surrounded by the rest of the Gryffindor team.

“Oi! Is it true you shouted at Lockhart, Sarah?” Ron asked from where he sat on the end of the bed.

“Mate, you should have seen her,” Draco said proudly. “She looked ready to kill him.”

“How are you feeling, Harry?” she asked, ignoring the cheers from the Gryffindors.

“Horrid,” he confessed quietly. “Madam Pomfrey just gave me Skele-Gro and I think Polyjuice is going to taste better.”

“I doubt it,” Sarah said with a small smile. “Some of the ingredients promise a disgusting mixture.”

“Great,” he drawled sarcastically, “really looking forward to it.”

Madam Pomfrey suddenly came storming over, shouting, “This boy needs rest, he’s got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!”

***

Sarah and Draco walked into the hospital wing on Sunday morning to find Harry sitting up in bed, clumsily trying to feed himself porridge with his left hand.

“Do you want some help with that?” Draco smirked but hurried over to help anyway.

Madam Pomfrey was bending and stretching Harry’s arm and fingers while Sarah watched on in interest, asking questions every so often.

“All in order,” the nurse said finally. “When you’ve finished eating, you may leave.”

Sarah and Draco waited while Harry quickly changed behind the curtains surrounding his bed before exiting the ward.

“Who was behind the other curtains?” Sarah asked once the heavy doors had closed behind them.

“Colin Creevey,” Harry said. “I saw Dumbledore and McGonagall bring him in.”

He quickly told them about what Dumbledore had said and about the visit by the strange house elf that had claimed to be helping keep him safe.

“He was the same one that kept my letters from me this summer!” Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Did he mention his name at all?” Sarah asked thoughtfully. “House-elves usually talk in third person and if you knew his name it might help you narrow down which family he belongs to.”

“Oh yeah actually he did – it was – er – Dobby I think,” said Harry.

“ _Dobby_?” Draco cried incredulously, stopping short.

Sarah gaped at him and Harry, who was watching in confusion.

“Er – yeah…”

”Dobby?” Draco repeated, disbelief painting his voice.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry sighed. “Dobby.”

He glanced between the two frozen Slytherins.

“Will someone please explain to me why you both look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Harry said irritably.

“Dobby is a Malfoy house-elf,” Sarah confessed in a stricken voice.

Harry stared at her in shock before turning to Draco, whose face was several shades paler than usual.

“He was assigned to me when I was younger but he is primarily my father’s elf,” he said weakly.

“Why on earth is your father’s elf trying to keep me from Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know!” Draco said with conviction.

“Didn’t you say that Dobby was trying to warn you about something, Harry?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah, he actually mentioned the Chamber of Secrets – he said it had been opened once before.”

“Maybe Draco’s father knows something about what is going on,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “Or at least, is involved in some way, intentionally or not.”

“Great,” Draco muttered miserably. “First he interferes with Quidditch and now he might be responsible for an unseen assailant going around Petrifying unsuspecting felines. Just perfect.”

“We should find Hermione and Ron,” said Harry. “I want to tell them about this.”

They hurried off the Gryffindor Tower but didn’t find them there. Harry began leading them to the second floor, near where Mrs Norris was attacked.

“Harry, where are we going?” Sarah asked for the third time.

“Myrtle’s bathroom.”

“ _Why?”_

“It’s where Hermione and Ron will be,” he replied.

“Hang on,” Sarah said, stopping suddenly. “You’re not _brewing_ the potion in _there_?”

“Er – yeah – we are,” Harry mumbled, blushing slightly.

“Harry, we already told you we want nothing to do with it. We shouldn’t even know where you’re doing it!” Draco cried.

“You go and tell Ron and Hermione what you need to and then come meet Draco and me in the library,” Sarah demanded, already dragging Draco away in the opposite direction. “And I swear to Merlin, Potter if you get caught…”

Harry waved weakly at them before disappearing into the bathroom.

“He is so stupid sometimes,” Sarah muttered to Draco, the blond nodding along in agreement.

They had only been in the library for ten minutes when Harry appeared, smiling sheepishly at them.

“Sorry about that,” he said, taking the seat beside Draco. “I kinda forget I wasn’t meant to involve you. Hermione scolded me.”

“Forget it, it’s not important,” Draco dismissed, pulling out his textbooks. “We need to get started on that Charms essay.”

“We only got it _Friday_ ,” Harry agonised.

“Exactly,” Draco stated. “Which means we should have started it yesterday but of course there was the Quidditch game and your complete inability to stay unharmed.”

“Hey!” Harry said loudly, causing Madam Pinch to appear from in between the bookcases and hiss, “ _Shhhh_!”

Harry sulked for another minute before admitting defeat, grabbing a spare sheet of parchment and quill from Draco.

“Be careful not to wreck that quill,” Sarah warned from across the table, “it’s Draco’s favourite.”

“Oh, sorry,” said Harry. “Do you have another one?” he asked Draco.

“It’s fine, you can use it,” Draco muttered. “Just don’t bite it.”

Harry smiled and turned back to the book in front of him.

Sarah raised a dark eyebrow at Draco, who blushed slightly but looked away.

***

In the second week of December, Professor Snape came around and collected the names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Sarah knew that Harry, Hermione, and Ron were staying to work on the potion. Narcissa had casually mentioned in her most recent letter that it was so nice to see Sarah’s father spending more time with Lucius recently.

“She’s trying to warn us not to go back for the holidays,” Draco announced at breakfast when the letter arrived.

“I hadn’t been planning on going back anyway,” admitted Sarah. “There was always a chance that I would run into my father.”

“Are any of you staying?” Draco asked their group.

“Well, considering that neither of you is going home, the annual party will be extremely boring,” Pansy stated dryly. “So no, I’ve decided to stay with you lovelies this holiday.”

“Me too,” Blaise said around a piece of toast.

Theo and Millicent were going home; however, which meant that it would only be Pansy and Sarah in their dorm. Their other dormmates were eager to go home.

“Might as well tell Snape,” muttered Sarah, looking up as their Head of House made his way down the Slytherin table.

After they had signed their names, they began to leave for class. But they were stopped in the entrance way by Crabbe before they could so much as put one foot on the marble staircase.

“Is it true you’re staying home for the holidays, Deaumont?” Crabbe sneered, drawing the attention of the surrounding students. “Daddy don’t want you home?”

“Piss off, Crabbe,” Draco said irritably, turning Sarah away from him by the arm.

“Of course, you’re not going back either, Malfoy,” leered Crabbe. “You could never part from your loyal bitch.”

Sarah stiffened as Draco whipped around, his wand out.

“You want to insult Sarah again, Crabbe?” he hissed, taking a step forward. “I _dare_ you.”

“Draco…” Blaise warned.

“Oh, so the dog _does_ bite,” laughed Crabbe cruelly. “I never would have guessed you had a backbone, Malfoy – not when you’ve hidden behind your mother’s skirts your entire life. I expect Deaumont does the same – oh _wait_ …”

Draco’s eyes flashed like lightning in a storm and he leapt forward toward Crabbe with a growl. Blaise, Pansy and Sarah all grabbed his robes before he could make contact and pulled him back.

“ _Let me go_!” he shouted.

“Draco! Stop!” Sarah said.

Before either of them could say another word, Crabbe suddenly shouted in pain and fell to the ground.

Draco stopped struggling and the four of them stood in shock, looking at Harry, who was standing above Crabbe with a murderous look on his face, green eyes shining brightly behind his glasses.

“ _Never_ ,” he hissed quietly, “ _ever_ insult my friends.”

He stepped away and shook out his right hand.

“I didn’t know punching somebody hurt that much,” he commented casually when he stopped before their group.

They merely gaped at him.

“Come on,” he said cheerfully. “We’re going to be late for class.”

***

Professor McGonagall gave Harry detention at lunchtime but suspiciously enough, didn’t take any points from Gryffindor. She sent Sarah and Draco a small smile while casually commenting that the Trophy room was going to be especially clean by the end of the year after Crabbe was finished in it.

“I still can’t believe you _punched_ Crabbe,” Draco voiced in awe. “ _Crabbe_ – the guy who is basically twice your height _and_ weight.”

“Yeah, well you better believe it,” muttered Harry. “My hand sure does.”

“You should get it checked out by Pomfrey,” said Sarah, peering at the bruised skin. “You might have done more damage than you think.”

“Can’t be bothered,” Harry stated with a blasé attitude. “We have Potions next, right?”

“Yes, Harry,” Hermione sighed in exasperation. “ _Honestly_ , it’s December – you should know your schedule by now.”

“It’s not that,” argued Harry, “I just don’t like Potions.”

“This one is going to be even worse, remember?” Ron said around a large piece of chicken. “We have to make that distraction to get the last ingredients.”

“Distraction?” Sarah asked quickly. “Please tell me you aren’t going to cause an issue in Snape’s classroom? You’ll be _expelled_!”

Harry smirked. “Only if we’re caught.”

“Be it on your own heads then,” Draco muttered cynically.

Sarah was tense as they crowded into the Potions classroom after lunch. She eyed Harry, Ron, and Hermione warily as the lesson progressed.

Suddenly, she noticed Hermione catch Harry’s eye and nod. With Snape’s back turned, Harry moved, lighting what seemed to be a small firework before lobbing it into Goyle’s cauldron. Sarah ducked and pulled Draco down with her as Goyle’s cauldron exploded, showering the class with splashes of incomplete Swelling Solution. Pansy let out a high-pitched shriek as she got hit on the hand, which immediately began to swell grotesquely. Sarah saw that Crabbe and Goyle both had it the worst, being directly in the line of fire – both their faces and bodies were oddly swelling in different places. Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened.

“Silence! SILENCE!” Snape roared. “Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught – when I find out who did this – “

As half the class lumbered up to Snape’s desk – some weighed down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffed-up lips – Sarah saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon from Snape’s office, the front of her robes bulging.

When everyone had been dealt with, Snape swept over to Goyle’s cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

“If I ever find out who threw this,” Snape whispered, “I shall _make sure_ that person is expelled.”

His black eyes seemed focused on Harry and Sarah was worried about whatever horrible treatment he was planning for her friend. The bell rung then and all the students scrambled to leave the classroom.

***

A week later, Sarah, Draco and Harry were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited.

“They’re starting a Duelling Club!” said Seamus. “First meeting tonight! I wouldn’t mind duelling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days…”

“What, you reckon Slytherin’s monster can duel?” said Dean, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

“Could be useful,” Draco said to Harry and Sarah as they went in to dinner. “Shall we go?”

Sarah was all for it, so at eight o’clock, them, along with Ron and Hermione, walked down to the Great Hall from where they had all been studying in the Gryffindor common room. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, like by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

“I wonder who’ll be teaching us?” said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. “Someone told me Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young – maybe it’ll be him.”

“As long as it’s not – “ Harry began, but he ended on a groan, shortly echoed by Sarah.

Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!”

“That’s it – I’m out,” Sarah announced quietly, turning around to leave.

“No you don’t,” Harry said, grabbing her arm tightly. “If I have to suffer, so you do.”

“Now,” Lockhart cried, “Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions – for full details, see my published works.”

He flashed the crowd a wide smile. “Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself – “

“Yeah, probably a lot more than Lockhart does,” Draco muttered to them quietly. Harry snorted to contain a laugh as Hermione shushed them and glared.

“ – and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry – you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

“Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?” Ron muttered.

Snape’s upper lip was curling. Sarah wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at _her_ like that she’d have been running as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritable. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

“As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “One the count of three, we will each cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.

“One – two – three – “

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”, there was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Sarah cheered along with the other Slytherins and a few students from the other Houses. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. “Do you think he’s all right?” she squealed through her fingers.

“Who cares?” said Harry, Ron, Draco, and Sarah together.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

“Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I’ve lost my wand – ah, thank you, Miss Brown – yes, excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind me saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy – however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…”

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me – “

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached their group first.

“Time to split up the dream team, I think,” he sneered. “Weasley, you can partner with Finnigan, Potter – “

Harry moved automatically toward Sarah.

“I don’t think so,” said Snape, smiling coldly. “Mr Crabbe, come over here. Let’s see what you can make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger – you can partner with Miss Bulstrode.”

Snape turned his dark eyes on Sarah and Draco as Crabbe and Millicent walked up.

“I think it will be good to split you up as well,” he snarled. “Mr Malfoy, you go with Mr Goyle. Miss Deaumont – you go with Miss Davis.”

Sarah and Draco glowered at their Head of House as their partners walked up to them. Tracey Davis sneered at Sarah before standing opposite her, wand in position. She and Daphne Greengrass were the other two girls in Sarah’s dormitory but they had left her alone this year, to Sarah’s immense satisfaction.

“Face you partners!” called Lockhart, back on the platform. “And bow!”

Sarah and Tracey barely inclined their heads, not willing to take their eyes off each other. To Sarah’s surprise, she could see a trace of fear in Tracey’s hazel eyes.

“Wands at the ready!” shouted Lockhart. “When I count to three, cast your charms to Disarm your opponents – _only_ to disarm them – we don’t want any accidents – one…two…three – “

Sarah swung her wand quickly over her head and shouted the incantation, watching in satisfaction as a blast of scarlet light shot out of the end of her wand, directly at Tracy. Tracy’s wand was wrenched from her hand and flew through the air, allowing Sarah to jump up and catch it.

“ _I said Disarm only_!” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd.

Sarah looked over to see Crabbe sinking to he knees, laughing, while Harry’s legs jerked around in an uncontrollable quickstep. Sarah snorted at him in amusement.

“Stop! Stop!” screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

“ _Finite Incantatem!_ ” he shouted; Harry’s feet stopped dancing, Crabbe stopped laughed, and they were able to look up at the crowd they had attracted.

Sarah caught Harry’s eye and shook her head slowly as she smothered her laughter.

“Dear, dear,” said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. “Up you go, Macmillan…Careful there, Miss Fawcett…Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot – “

Draco had moved to stand beside Sarah, still holding Goyle’s wand in his hand after he had successfully disarmed the other boy. Lockhart suddenly looked at them, his blue eyes brightening.

“Ah! Look!” he shouted, moving toward them quickly, causing Sarah to take an automatic step backwards. “Our second-years have done it!”

Lockhart seemed to have gotten over his fear of Sarah after the Quidditch game and gleefully drew her and Draco up to the stage.

“Let’s have a demonstration you two – yes, hand back the others their wands – there you go, Mr Malfoy over here and Miss Deaumont – yes over there – very good.”

Sarah stared at the crowd in annoyance, sticking her tongue out at Blaise when he shot her finger guns and smiled cheekily.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to put them together?” Snape drawled from behind Draco. “They are friends and I believe they will not be as inclined to disarm the other.”

“With all due respect, Professor,” Sarah drawled in an equally bored tone. “I have no problem showing Draco just who the better duellist is.” She shot Draco a Cheshire cat smile and he smirked in return.

“Come on, Professor Snape!” Lockhart cried. “A little friendly competition never hurt anyone. Alright then, get into position – good – on my count – one…two…three – “

Sarah flicked her wrist at the same time Draco did. Her bolt of light shot straight at his hand while she managed to dodge his at the last minute. She smiled smugly as she snatched his wand from the air and held it up triumphantly.

“Sorry, darling,” she smirked at Draco fondly. “Looks like we know who’s the best.”

“Be careful there, love,” Draco smiled back, “we wouldn’t want your ego to crush you, now.”

Sarah burst into laughter along with most of the crowd and she threw Draco’s wand back at him, his Seeker reflexes allowing him to grab it from the air with ease.

“Excellent! Excellent!” said Lockhart with a bright smile. “Twenty points to Slytherin! Now – I think I’d better teach you how to _block_ unfriendly spells. Let’s have another volunteer pair – Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you – “

“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” Neville’s round, pink face went pinker. Sarah glowered at Snape’s back as he scanned the crowd. “How about Crabbe and Potter?” said Snape with a twisted smile.

“Excellent idea!” said Lockhart, gesturing for Harry and Crabbe onto the stage.

“Watch him,” Sarah muttered as she passed Harry onto her way back to the floor. Harry nodded, his green eyes shining with determination.

“Now, Harry,” said Lockhart. “When Vincent points his wand at you, you do _this_.”

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, “Whoops – my wand is a little overexcited – “

Sarah watched as Snape moved closer to Crabbe, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Crabbe smirked, too.

“That can’t be good,” Draco muttered from beside Sarah.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. “Just do what I did, Harry!”

“What, drop my wand?”

Sarah laughed at Harry’s words, silencing herself quickly as Lockhart began to count once again.

“Three – two – one – go!” he shouted.

Crabbe raised his wand and bellowed, “ _Serpensortia!”_

The end of his wand exploded. Sarah watched, aghast, as a long, black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the stage between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed away swiftly.

“Don’t move, Potter,” said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. “I’ll get rid of it…”

“Allow me!” shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Sarah watched in horror as Harry stepped forward and _hissed_ at the snake, causing it to pause and turn toward him, backing away from Justin. She glanced at Draco quickly, seeing that he was just as shocked, before turning back to Harry. The dark-haired boy was now smiling happily at Justin, unaware of the terror of everyone around him.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” Justin shouted, looking terrified. Before Harry could reply, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Harry’s face fell and he looked hopelessly confused. He glanced at Sarah in question and she quickly stepped forward, rushing up onto the stage to grab his sleeve. She barely registered Snape vanishing the snake as she dragged Harry away.

“ _Come on_!” she said into his ear. “Move – go – “

She saw Draco, Hermione, and Ron flank them as they rushed out of the silent hall. They didn’t stop until they fell through the portrait hole into the empty Gryffindor common room.

Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said, “You’re a Parselmouth. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Harry still looked extremely confused.

“I’m a what?” he said, glancing at all their faces.

“A _Parselmouth!_ ” said Ron. “You can talk to snakes!”

“I know,” said Harry. “I mean, that’s only the second time I’ve don’t it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once – long story – but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to – that was before I knew I was a wizard – “ he rambled.

“A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?” Draco repeated faintly.

“So?” said Harry. “I bet loads of people here can do it!”

“That’s the problem, Harry,” Sarah said gravely. “They _can’t_.”

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

“It’s an extremely rare gift, Harry,” she explained, sitting on the arm of his chair. “There have only been a handful of Parselmouths recorded in the last few _centuries_.”

“This is bad. This is _very, very bad_ ,” Ron muttered from where he was pacing before the fire.

“What’s bad?” said Harry angrily. “What’s wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn’t told that snake not to attack Justin –“

“Oh, that’s what you said to it?”

“What d’you mean? You were there – you heard me – “

“We heard you speaking Parseltongue, Harry,” Sarah said calmly. “Snake language.”

“You could have been saying anything,” Ron added. “No wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something – it was creepy, you know – “

Harry gaped at them.

“I spoke a different language? But – I didn’t realise – how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?”

Ron shook his head. Both he and Hermione were looking as though someone had died. Sarah shared a glance with Draco before turning back to Harry, placing her hand comfortingly on his shoulder.

“Harry – “ he turned toward her, confusion and hurt flashing behind his jade eyes. “The reason we’re worried is because there hasn’t been another Parseltongue in years.” She paused, looking toward Draco in question. He nodded encouragingly at her, a sour look on his face. “The last known Parseltongue was Voldemort.” Ron and Hermione gasped at the name but Sarah ignored them. “Before that, the most famous one was Salazar Slytherin. That’s why our House symbol is a serpent.”

Harry’s face had grown paler during her explanation.

“But – but – “ he stuttered.

“Exactly,” said Ron. “And now the whole school’s going to think you’re his great-great-great-grandson or something – “

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ronald,” snapped Draco. “Pureblood history can be traced back centuries. It would be easy to see where the Potter’s are descended from.”

Harry brightened slightly at Draco’s words.

“Harry, it’s important you don’t do anything stupid, okay?” said Sarah sternly. He opened his mouth to retort but she interrupted him. “I’m not saying you do it on purpose, _usually_ – but now it’s really important for you to keep your head down and stay out of trouble.”

Harry nodded, a disgruntled expression on his pale face.

“We’re staying here tonight,” Draco announced, standing from the couch and pulling Harry to his feet. “No way we’re leaving you alone.”

Harry smiled gratefully before leaving for the boy’s dormitory with Draco and Ron, his hand grasped tightly by the blond.

Hermione’s eyes followed them, bright with worry.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” she whispered.

Sarah sighed. “I don’t know, Hermione,” she said truthfully. “We can only hope.”

***

The next morning, their last Herbology lesson of the term was cancelled due to a blizzard. Harry was pacing in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Hermione played wizard chess nearby.

“Harry, will you _please_ stop pacing?” Draco exclaimed. “You’re driving me absolutely crazy!”

Harry muttered an apology and sat down in a free armchair. Sarah and Draco had claimed the table closest to the fire to do homework but had been constantly distracted by Harry’s pacing for the past half hour.

Before long, Harry’s knee starting bouncing up and down in the chair, seemingly unconsciously. Draco groaned in annoyance beside Sarah and she decided she had had enough.

“For heaven’s sake, Harry,” she said, exasperated. “We’re going to go and find Justin so you can talk to him. If you keep being this bundle of nerves I’m going to throw you into the snow!”

So Harry got up, and followed by Sarah, left through the portrait hole, wandering around without a clue of where to go.

“Let’s try the library,” Sarah suggested. Harry nodded and began to walk quickly down the hallways.

They passed a few classrooms, catching snatches of what was happening within. Professor McGonagall was shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger. Sarah smothered a laugh as they hurried on, Harry eager to find the Hufflepuff.

A group of Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology with them were indeed sitting at the back of the library, but they didn’t seem to be working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Sarah could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. Sarah was intending to walk right up to them and ask where Justin was, but as she took a step forward, Harry grabbed her arm and shook his head, pulling her into the stacks to hid in the, ironically enough, Invisibility section.

“You’re going to eavesdrop on them?” she hissed, low enough that only Harry could hear.

He just glowered at her and put his finger to his lip. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared, but turned her attention toward the group regardless.

“So anyway,” a stout boy was saying, “I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter’s marked him down as his next victim, it’s best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin’s been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually _told_ him he’d been down for Eton. That’s not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin’s air on the loose, is it?”

Sarah felt Harry stiffen beside her and grabbed his hand, trying to communicate with her eyes that it wasn’t worth getting too angry about.

“You definitely think it _is_ Potter, then, Ernie?” said a girl with blond pigtails anxiously.

“Hannah,” said the stout boy solemnly,” he’s a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that’s the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue.”

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, “Remember what was written on the wall? _Enemies of the Heir, Beware_. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch’s cat’s attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know – Creevey’s been attacked.”

“He always seems so nice, though,” said Hannah uncertainly, “and, well, he’s the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can’t be all bad, can he?”

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Sarah and Harry edged nearer so that they could catch Ernie’s words.

“No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that.” He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, “ _That’s_ probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn’t want another Dark Lord _competing_ with him. I wonder what other powers Potter’s been hiding?”

Sarah couldn’t take it anymore. Clearing her throat loudly, she stepped out from behind the bookcases, still holding Harry tightly by the hand. If she hadn’t been feeling so angry, she would have found the sight that greeted them funny: Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of Harry, and the colour was draining out of Ernie’s face.

“Hello,” said Sarah pleasantly. “My dear friend Harry and I are looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley.”

The Hufflepuffs’ worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.

“What do you want with him?” said Ernie in a quavering voice.

“Oh, you know,” Sarah said with a slight curl to her lip, “just want to terrorise him as Slytherin’s Heir and his accomplice.”

The Hufflepuffs gasped loudly in fear, leaning away from the pair.

“Sarah, don’t,” groaned Harry. “You’re making it worse.”

She just shrugged and continued to glower at the other students.

“I just wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Duelling Club,” said Harry earnestly.

“All I saw,” said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, “was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin.”

“I didn’t chase it at him!” Harry said, his voice beginning to shake with anger. “It didn’t even _touch_ him!”

“It was a very near miss,” said Ernie. “And in case you’re getting ideas,” he added hastily, “I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood’s as pure as anyone’s, so – “

“I don’t care what sort of blood you’ve got!” said Harry fiercely. “Why would I want to attack Muggleborns?”

“I’ve heard you hate those Muggles you live with,” said Ernie swiftly.

“It’s not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them,” said Harry bitterly. “I’d like to see you try it.”

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the library, leaving Sarah standing before the quivering Hufflepuffs.

“You are all absolutely _ridiculous!_ ” she hissed at them, stepping forward and placing her hands firmly on their table. “One of Harry’s _best friends_ is Muggleborn! He is the _last_ person that would ever attack Muggleborns, let alone anybody!”

Ernie continued to stare stubbornly up at her. “Well maybe he’s doing it because he’s friends with you and Malfoy – everyone knows what your families are like, with your pureblood propaganda and hatred of anyone else! He could be being influenced by you two – or you could be telling him to do it! You could be contr – “

He never got to finish his sentence because Sarah had straightened, snarled harshly, and whipped her hand across his cheek. A loud _SMACK_! echoed throughout the shelves as the Hufflepuffs stared at her and Ernie in shock.

“You _ever_ say anything like that again,” she hissed, “and a slap will be the _least_ of your worries.”

She spun around and walked toward the exit, the perfect representation of poise and grace despite the churning anger flowing through her bloodstream.

As the doors closed behind her, she saw Harry leaning on the wall opposite, arms crossed over his chest and a thunderous expression on his face.

“I can’t _believe_ them!” he said, straightening from the wall to meet her halfway across the hallway. “What did you say to them?” he asked, slightly more calmly.

“I told them that Hermione was one of your best friends and _she_ was Muggleborn, and therefore, you would be the last person to ever hurt anyone,” she huffed, squeezing her right hand and wincing slightly – slapping Ernie had hurt a lot more than she thought it would.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” Harry asked worriedly, immediately picking up on her wince.

She sighed deeply and muttered, “I slapped Ernie because he was spouting all this nonsense of you being influenced by Draco and me and that our “ _pureblood propaganda”_ was making you attack people.”

Harry’s worried face quickly transformed into one of outrage and he looked beyond her shoulder as if seeing through the thick walls into the library, mentally trying to fry Ernie with his glare.

“Just forget it,” Sarah said. “He’s not worth it.”

Harry grunted into annoyance but nodded, jaw tightening slightly. “Let’s at least go to Madam Pomfrey to see if she has something to help your hand.”

They trudged through the corridors, barely paying attention to where they were going. The result was that they walked straight into something very large and solid, which knocked them back onto the floor.

“Oh, hello, Hagrid,” Harry said, looking up.

Hagrid’s face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn’t possibly be anything else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands and Sarah wrinkled her nose at it.

“All righ’, Harry, Sarah?” he said, pulling the balaclava so he could speak. “Why aren’t yeh in class?”

“Cancelled,” said Sarah, getting up alongside Harry. “What are you doing here?”

Hagrid held up the limp rooster.

“Second one killed this term,” he explained. “it’s either foxes or a Blood-Suckin’ Bugbear, an’ I need the headmaster’s permission ter put a charm around the hen coop.”

“That’s odd,” Sarah said politely.

“Yea’…” agreed Hagrid. He peered at them closely under thick, snow-flecked eyebrows. “Yeh sure yeh’re all righ’? Yeh look all hot an’ bothered – “

Sarah couldn’t bring herself to repeat what Ernie and the Hufflepuffs had said, and neither could Harry it seemed.

“It’s nothing,” the raven-haired boy said. “We’d better get going, Hagrid, it’s Transfiguration next and we’ve got to pick up our books.”

They walked off, stopping into the hospital wing briefly to get some ice from Madam Pomfrey, who tutted disapprovingly but didn’t say anything, before heading back to the Gryffindor common room.

They stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong ice draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. They were halfway down the passage when Harry suddenly tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.

Sarah turned to squint at what he'd fallen over and felt as though her stomach had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn’t all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Sarah had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and translucent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin’s.

Harry got to his feet, his breathing fast and shallow. He looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor as Sarah crouched beside Justin and felt for a pulse. There was one, but it was very, _very_ faint.

She stood again and turned to Harry, opening her mouth to tell him to calm down, but suddenly a door right next to them opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.

“Why, it’s potty wee Potter! And his _girllllfriend_!” cackled Peeves, bouncing past.

“Peeves! Enough!” shouted Sarah. “We need your help.” Peeves looked astounded that someone was asking for his help. “I need you to shout, as loud as you can. We need the teachers notified, _now!_ ”

Peeves stared at her, stunned, for a moment before filling his lungs and screamed, “ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!”

“A bit over the top, but it’ll do,” Sarah muttered as door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. Harry was practically hyperventilating beside her so she grabbed his hand and gripped it tightly. She spotted Professor McGonagall’s hat in the crowd and shouted over the noise, “PROFESSOR! PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL!”

Professor McGonagall hurried over, her lips in a thin line. Before she could explain, Sarah started talking.

“Professor, Harry and I were on our way back from the hospital wing and we found them like this! We didn’t know what to do so I got Peeves to shout about it – I’m sorry about that, by the way – but you have to believe me, Harry had nothing to do with it. We were in the library before – ask Ernie, I slapped him – and then we spoke to Hagrid. It _wasn’t_ us!”

Students had fallen silent at her words and they glanced unevenly at one another. Professor McGonagall remained silent before nodding once, turning to direct the other students back to class. The other Professors were examining Justin and Nearly Headless Nick.

Eventually, Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to a student with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This left Harry, Sarah, and Professor McGonagall alone together.

“This way, Potter, Deaumont,” she said.

“Professor,” said Harry at once, “I swear I didn’t – “

“I know, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall curtly. “We need to explain this to Professor Dumbledore.”

They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

“Lemon drop!” she said. This was evidently a password because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind it split in two. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward. As the trio stepped onto it, Sarah heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher – giving Sarah slight motion-sickness – until at last, she saw a gleaming oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, stepping forward with Harry.


	8. Chapter Eight

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. Professor McGonagall told them to wait and left them there, alone.

Sarah looked around. One thing was certain: Dumbledore’s office was by far the most interesting she had ever seen. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard’s hat – the _Sorting Hat_.

Sarah felt Harry move beside her. She sent him a questioning glance as he walked around the desk, lifted the hat from its shelf, and lowered it slowly onto his head. Guessing that he wanted a little privacy, Sarah turned away and instead walked toward a large golden perch behind the door. A decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey was standing on the perch. It made a gagging noise, it’s dull eyes gazing balefully back at Sarah.

Sarah was just thinking that all they needed was for Dumbledore’s pet bird to die while they were alone in the office with it, when the bird burst into flames.

Sarah yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. Harry whirled around toward her, conversation with the hat finished.

“What did you do?” he hissed, stalking around the table with wide eyes.

“Nothing,” she snapped back.

Now that she had calmed down a bit, she watched in awe as the bird became a fireball, giving a loud shriek before dissolving into nothing but a smouldering pile of ash on the floor.

“A phoenix,” she whispered in awe, just as the office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very sombre.

“Professor,” Harry gasped. “Your bird – We couldn’t do anything – he just caught fire – “

“Harry, shut up,” Sarah hissed.

Dumbledore just smiled at them.

“About time, too,” he said. “He’s been looking dreadful for days; I’ve been telling him to get a move on.”

He chuckled at the stunned look on Harry’s face.

“Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him…”

Sarah looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke its head out of the ashes. It was quiet as ugly as the old one.

“It’s a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day,” said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. “He’s really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly _faithful_ pets.”

Sarah saw a slight twinkle in Dumbledore’s blue eyes and wondered what the old man could find so amusing about those particular pieces of information.

Regardless, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and instead drew Harry toward the chairs situated in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

“It wasn’ Harry and Sarah, Professor Dumbledore!” said Hagrid urgently. “I was talkin’ ter them _seconds_ before that kid was found, they never had time, sir – “

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere and causing Sarah to cringe back in disgust as it swung dangerously close to her head.

“ – it can’t’ve bin them, I’ll swear it in font o’ the Ministry o’ Magic if I have to – “

“Hagrid, I – “

“ – yeh’ve got the wrong people, sir, I _know_ they never – “

“ _Hagrid!_ ” said Dumbledore loudly. “I do _not_ think that Harry _or_ Sarah attacked those people.”

“Oh,” said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. “Right. I’ll wait outside then, Headmaster.”

And he stomped out looking embarrassed.

“You don’t think it was us, Professor?” Harry repeated hopefully as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.

“No, Harry, I don’t,” said Dumbledore, though his face was sombre again. “But I still want to talk to you. Miss Deaumont, if you would please wait outside – “

“No!” said Harry quickly, interrupting Dumbledore. He flushed red but soldiered on. “Sorry, Professor, but I would prefer it if Sarah stayed.”

Dumbledore observed them down his long nose, his light-blue stare piercing.

“Very well,” he said at last. “Harry, I must ask you whether there is anything you’d like to tell me,” he said gently. “Anything at all.”

Harry and Sarah shared a glance, one that was pretty obvious in Sarah’s opinion. It practically screamed that they were hiding something. But there was no way Sarah was going to admit that Harry was hearing voices. Voices only he could hear….

“No,” said Harry. “There isn’t anything, Professor…”

***

“I need to go to the library,” Sarah announced as they left Professor Dumbledore’s office. She had had a slight epiphany during their conversation and she wanted to check to see if she was right or not. But she didn’t want to worry Harry. “I’ll meet you back in your common room later.”

She ran off, leaving Harry looking more than slightly confused.

“OOFT!”

As she had turned a corner, she ran into someone, knocking both them and herself to the ground.

“Are you okay?” a high voice asked.

Sarah opened her eyes to see Ginny Weasley sitting beside her, looking pale and worried.

“I’m fine,” Sarah assured her. “Are you?”

Ginny nodded but still looked worried, her eyes darting around the corridor as if looking for an assailant.

“Hey,” Sarah said softly, causing the younger girl’s brown eyes to snap to hers, “are you all right? You look pale.”

“I – I’m fine,” Ginny stuttered.

Sarah frowned slightly. “I don’t think you are. It’s going to be okay, the attacker will be found soon and hopefully no one else will get hurt. Besides, your brothers and I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

She tried to smile reassuringly at the girl but Ginny just paled further and hurried to her feet.

“I’m sorry about running into you,” she gasped before scampering away, her long, red hair flowing behind her.

Sarah opened her mouth to call out to Ginny but she had already disappeared around the corridor. Sarah frowned and decided that she would make more of an effort to check up on the younger girl. Dismissing the odd encounter, she got to her feet and began to run in the direction of the library again.

Her steps slowed once she reached the library – her excitement wasn’t worth Madam Pince’s wrath.

Sarah walked through the ‘S’ section of the library, looking for anything she could find on snakes. An hour later, she collapsed into a seat at the table in the far corner, a massive stack of books in her arms. She searched through information as dull as the nutritional value of mice for a snake’s digestive system to information that made her pause and read entire paragraphs of in interest.

After a few hours of research, it was dinner time and she finally gave up. She had skipped the rest of her lessons for the day, a fact that both Draco _and_ Hermione were going to give her shit about. Swearing under her breath, she quickly put all the books on the trolley next to one of the bookshelves – the books would magically return themselves in due time. She rushed out of the library, ignoring Madam Pince’s disapproving glare, and hurried toward the Great Hall.

She noticed Draco sitting at the Slytherin table, so she veered toward there instead of the Gryffindor table.

“Where have you been?” he asked as soon as she had taken the seat beside him. “You missed all your lessons!”

“I was in the library,” she said dismissively, filling her plate with food.

He stared at her in disbelief. “What on earth was so important that I had to endure Charms alone?” he said, disapproval evident in his tone.

“Oh, don’t whine,” she tutted. “It surely wasn’t that bad.”

“It was!” he complained. “I had to partner with Finnigan and his ridiculous pyrotechnic tendencies.”

Sarah laughed, choking on a mouthful of food before quickly washing it down with some water. She had never gotten used to the taste of pumpkin juice, despite Draco’s borderline obsession with the beverage.

“Forget that, though,” Draco said, effectively bringing the topic back to Sarah. “What were you researching?”

Sarah sighed and glanced across the hall, seeing Harry’s dark head bent toward Hermione’s and Ron’s.

“I was researching a theory about the Chamber,” she admitted quietly, looking around to make sure no one was paying them any attention. She noticed a few students watching her warily and she glared back at them.

“What theory?” Draco said eagerly, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of a new challenge.

“I think that whatever is in the Chamber is related to a snake,” she explained. “It would explain why only Harry could hear that voice on Halloween. Also, if Salazar Slytherin _really_ built the Chamber, wouldn’t it make sense for him to put something down there that he could control?”

Draco’s expression became thoughtful. Sarah could practically see his brain picking through the information. “You’re right, it would make sense,” he agreed. “So, if it’s a sort of snake, what kind can petrify its victims? Also, how would it be getting around the school?”

Sarah nodded along to his words, getting excited at the challenge. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I think it might be using the pipes to travel – that’s the only explanation as to how Harry heard it in the walls – unless Hogwarts’ walls are actually hollow….?”

“No, that would be structurally problematic,” Draco disagreed. “I doubt the founders made the walls hollow. I think you’re right about the pipes.”

“Will you help me research?” Sarah asked hopefully.

“Of course!” Draco exclaimed. “Did you seriously think that after telling me that I would just leave you to do all the fun stuff alone?” he shook his head fondly at her. “Don’t be ridiculous, love.”

Sarah beamed at him. Hopefully, with Draco’s help, they would be able to figure out what was attacking the students before anyone got seriously hurt.

***

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick’s fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? What terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampeded to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.

“At this rate, we’ll be the only ones left,” Ron told them one night in the library. “Us, and Crabbe and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it’s going to be.”

Sarah was glad that most people were leaving. She was tired of everyone skirting around Harry in the corridors and muttering, pointing and hissing at him. Sometimes she even got a dark look sent her way.

Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting, “Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…”

Percy was deeply disapproving of this behaviour.

“It is _not_ a laughing matter,” he said coldly.

“Oh, get out of the way, Percy,” said Fred. “Harry and his accomplice are in a hurry.”

“Yeah, they’re off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant,” said George, chortling.

Ginny didn’t find it amusing either.

“Oh, _don’t_ ,” she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

Sarah had been keeping an eye on the younger girl and had noticed that she was getting paler as the weeks went by. Her red hair hung limp around her face and she had large dark circles under her eyes. More than once, Sarah had tried to ask Ginny if she was okay but Ginny always managed to hurry away before Sarah could hear more than a weak, “I’m fine.”

At last, the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle. Sarah found it peaceful, rather than gloomy – she had always loved the snow. She and Draco took advantage of the empty common room and spent most of their evenings researching what could be hiding in the Chamber.

“There has to be _something_ ,” Sarah groaned, slamming shut another thick tome. “We’ve gone through practically every book in the library surrounding snakes!”

Draco looked up from his own book and rubbed his temples slowly. “Maybe we’re not looking in the right place?” he suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what if there’s more information in the Restricted section? Or even the Manor’s library?”

“How do we get into the Restricted section?” Sarah asked. “It’s not like we can just ask Snape if we can have permission to research deadly snakes for fun.”

Draco sighed. “True, we would need to find another way to get in…”

Sarah sat up straighter suddenly. “Harry’s cloak!”

“What?” Draco said, brow scrunching in confusion.

“We can borrow Harry’s Invisibility cloak and sneak into the Restricted section!” Sarah said, excitement coursing through her veins. “And if we don’t find anything in there we can write to your mother.”

Draco nodded slowly. “That could actually work…”

When they weren’t researching in the common room, they were hanging out with Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. Pansy and Blaise usually joined them. Ron’s siblings were also staying over the break instead of visiting their older brother Bill in Egypt with Mr and Mrs Weasley.

Christmas morning dawned cold and white. Hermione and Sarah, who had been staying in Hermione’s dorm with her, burst into Harry and Ron’s dormitory, startling the three boys awake.

“What - !”

“Bloody _hell_!”

“Fuck off!”

Their startled shouts echoed throughout the empty room and mingled with Sarah and Hermione’s laughter.

“Wake up,” Hermione said loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.

“Hermione – Sarah – you’re not supposed to be in here – “ said Ron, shielding his eyes against the light.

“Like that’s ever stopped Sarah before,” Draco groaned, rolling over on Neville’s bed and pulling the covers over his head.

“Aw, hun, I know you love my cuddles,” Sarah teased, dancing over to Draco and throwing herself bodily onto him. He grunted under her unexpected weight.

“Get off me, you hag,” he mumbled.

Sarah clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Now, now, that’s no way to speak to your dear friend.” She stood up. “Grumpy old git,” she added with a smirk while lunging forward and pushing Draco off the bed, covers and all.

He yelped in surprise as he hit the floor before turning to face her, glowering over the top of the cocoon of blankets he was surrounded by.

“I hate you,” he muttered without any venom, blond hair tousled beyond belief.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said gleefully. “Up you get, Harry. Unless you want to join Draco on the floor.”

“No, no, I’m awake,” Harry said quickly, sitting up and blindly reaching for his glasses.

“We’ve been up for nearly an hour,” Hermione said, throwing presents at the boys. “I’ve been adding more lacewings to the potion while Sarah adamantly ignored its existence. It’s ready.”

Ron and Harry suddenly looked wide awake.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” said Hermione, shifting Scabbers the rat so that she could sit down on the end of Ron’s four-poster. Sarah had never understood why Ron kept that rat as a pet but by now she had gotten used to seeing the creature trotting around the dormitory or common room. “If we’re going to do it, I say it should be tonight.” Hermione continued, forcing Sarah’s attention back to her.

“That should work,” Draco said, clambering back onto Neville’s bed, blankets still wrapped tightly around him. “Sarah and I will go to the common room after dinner and you guys can follow us.”

“What about Goyle?” Sarah asked. “How are you going to keep him away from the common room? Also, how are you going to explain that Tracey suddenly decided to return? There’s so much that can go wrong with this plan!”

“Don’t worry about that, I have a plan,” Hermione assured. “Draco managed to get us some of Goyle’s and Theo’s hair to add to the potion. I also put some sleeping potion in some cakes that one of you can give to Goyle.”

“Theo willingly gave you some of his hair?” Sarah asked Draco in exasperation.

“Of course,” Draco said. “He believed the entire thing to be hilarious.”

“You _told_ him?” Ron shrieked. “What if he tells Snape?”

“He won’t,” Draco assured. “He doesn’t like Crabbe very much but because our fathers are all associates, it will not be unusual for him to speak with Crabbe.”

“Ugh, I still don’t like this,” Sarah huffed, sitting down in front of Draco and leaning up against his chest. “Draco and I are going to be happily sequestered in my dorm with Pansy and Blaise. You can tell us everything tomorrow.”

“You know…thinking about it now,” Harry said hesitantly, “we could have just asked Theo to ask Crabbe for us. We wouldn’t have had to go through all of this trouble…”

“See! Reason!” Sarah shouted in triumph.

“Well, it’s too late now anyway,” Hermione sniffed. “We have the potion, we might as well use it.”

“Okay, fine,” Harry said in defeat.

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very small package in her beak.

“Hello,” said Harry happily as she landed on his bed. “Are you speaking to me again?”

Hedwig nibbled Harry’s ear in an affectionate sort of way, which was a far better present than the one that she had brought him, which turned out to be from the Dursleys. They had sent Harry a toothpick and a note telling him to find out whether he’d be able to stay at Hogwarts for the summer vacation, too.

Sarah nearly growled, she was that angry.

“How _dare_ they?” she hissed, thrusting the note away angrily after she had finished reading it. “They least they could do is treat you like an actual _human being_! If I ever have the unpleasant misfortune of meeting them, I _swear to Merlin_ I will – “

“Sarah, it’s okay,” Harry said. He made room for her on his bed as she hopped off Neville’s and stomped toward him. “At least they acknowledged my existence, it was more than I was expecting.”

“But that’s _not_ okay, Harry! That’s no way to treat someone, let alone _family_!” she argued, feeling immensely sorry for her friend’s horrible upbringing.

“Let’s not worry about them now,” Harry suggested. “Instead, let’s open the rest of our presents!”

The elves had sent Draco and Sarah’s gifts to the Gryffindor dorms and Sarah and Hermione had brought theirs in when they had gone to the boy's dorm. Sarah was quite happy with her gifts: Hermione and Draco both bought her a selection of wizard and muggle fiction she had been talking about constantly; Ron had given her a selection of sweets he knew she liked; Mrs Weasley had sent a hand-knitted sweater in pale grey; Harry had gotten her new Chaser gloves; Hagrid had sent a tin of rock-hard toffee; Pansy and Blaise had both chipped in to get her and Draco matching scarves and beanies, and Narcissa had sent her some beautiful perfume from France.

They spent the day playing in the snow with the Weasley twins, Ginny, Pansy and Blaise, before they all trooped inside, exhausted, for the Christmas dinner.

The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favourite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. Percy, who hadn’t noticed that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read “Pinhead,” kept asking them all what they were sniggering at. Sarah didn’t even care that Crabbe was making loud, snide remarks about their new sweaters from the Slytherin table. Pansy and Blaise had joined Sarah and Draco at the Gryffindor table, seeming as if they belonged there.

Harry and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione ushered them out of the hall to finalise their plans for the evening. Before she followed the boys, she leant down and handed Sarah a small cake.

“Give this to Goyle if you can,” Hermione whispered. “It’ll knock him out for about an hour and he won’t remember it.”

Sarah and Draco watched her walk away in slight shock.

“Remind me not to get on her bad side,” Draco muttered.

“Does this mean your Gryffindors’ insane plan is in motion?” Blaise asked from across the table.

Sarah grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“Why didn’t they just get Theo – ?“

“Don’t even ask.”

***

Sarah and Draco lurked near the entrance to the dungeons, waiting for Harry, Ron and Hermione to arrive.

“Remind we again why we offered to do this?” Draco asked, slouching against the wall.

“ _Because_ ,” Sarah sighed. “We’re their friends and have to watch them attempt their ridiculous plans from afar in order to be able to swoop in and save them.”

Draco just grunted in annoyance.

Finally, they heard hurried footsteps ringing through the corridors. Sarah and Draco both stood up straighter as Goyle and Theo appeared around the corner, looking out of breath.

“Hey guys,” Goyle-impersonator said.

“Oh, that’s uncanny,” Sarah said, cringing away. She knew for a fact that Blaise had taken Goyle away to a classroom to ‘talk’ and instead fed him the cake dosed with sleeping draught. Now, Pansy and Blaise were keeping an eye on the other boy, ready to tell him about his miraculous ‘fainting episode’ and apparent ‘memory loss’.

“Where’s Hermione?” Sarah said, looking behind the boys.

“Dunno,” Theo-impersonator replied. “She told us to go without her.”

“Who is who?” Draco asked, grey eyes flicking between the other boys.

“I’m Harry,” said Goyle’s voice.

“Ron,” said Theo’s.

“Okay, brilliant,” Sarah said with fake enthusiasm. “Let’s go and get this over with.”

She whispered the password and entered the common room, Draco beside her. They immediately steered toward Draco’s dorm. Sarah heard Harry and Ron enter behind them and take a seat before the fire. She waved once at them before following Draco into his room.

Crabbe was sitting on his bed, a sneer pulling at his face when he noticed Sarah and Draco.

“Goyle just arrived in the common room,” Draco drawled. “Why don’t you go join him so we don’t have to deal with your presence.”

“I wouldn’t want to be here anyway, Malfoy,” Crabbe snarled. “Have fun with your filthy girlfriend.”

Sarah clenched her jaw tight to avoid making a scene. They needed Crabbe to go out and talk with Harry and Ron if the Gryffindors’ plan was going to work.

“Do you think Crabbe is actually dumb enough to think it’s really Goyle and Theo?” Sarah asked, flopping comfortably onto Draco’s bed.

“If anyone’s going to believe it, it’ll be him,” Draco replied.

He grabbed their homework from their bags, ignoring Sarah’s groan.

“We might as well get it done while we wait,” he pointed out, promptly throwing Sarah’s Transfiguration textbook at her head.

She glared at him but sat up, pulling her notes and books toward her, dejectedly accepting her fate.

Nearly an hour later, they were distracted by loud noises coming from the common room and the sudden slam of the entrance.

“Well,” Sarah said, pushing her notes away, “I believe their time was up.”

“Should we go find them?” Draco asked distractedly, continuing to write his essay.

“No,” Sarah shook her head. “They can tell us tomorrow. Now we just wait for Blaise and Pansy.”

Not ten minutes later, Blaise and Pansy waltzed through the dormitory’s door.

“You better be bloody grateful,” Blaise announced before collapsing on his bed.

“I take it, it went well then?” Draco drawled.

“Delightfully so,” breezed Blaise. “Old chap was out like a light and didn’t question me when I told him I had found him after he came out of the common room.”

“Crabbe stopped us on our way in and asked if we knew that Theo was back,” Pansy said, sitting primly on Theo’s bed. “We told him he only came back for a few hours because his father was busy and he left one of his textbooks here. I think Crabbe bought it.”

“Brilliant,” Sarah said. “Let’s never do this again.”

“Bloody Gryffindors,” Draco lamented, shaking his head.

***

“She’s _what_?” Sarah screeched at breakfast the next morning.

Harry and Ron had just told her and Draco that Hermione’s attempted transformation had failed due to her having added cat hair, not human hair. She was currently in the hospital wing, suffering from a failed animal transformation which left her with black hair all over her face, yellow eyes, and long, pointed ears sticking up from her head, and even worse…

“A _tail_?” Draco snickered quietly.

“That’s horrible! Stop!” Sarah demanded, punching Draco on the arm.

He muttered something inaudible under his breath while rubbing his arm sourly.

Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumour at her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course, everyone thought that she had been attacked. So many people filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione’s bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.

Sarah, Harry, Ron and Draco went to visit her every evening. When the new term started, they brought her each day’s homework and handwritten notes by Sarah and Draco.

“If I’d sprouted whiskers, I’d take a break from work,” said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione’s bedside table one evening.

“Don’t be silly, Ron, I’ve got to keep up,” said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any new leads?” she added in a whisper so that Madam Pomfrey couldn’t hear her.

“Nothing,” said Harry gloomily.

“All that effort and I can’t believe you didn’t find out _anything_ ,” Draco grumbled. “We told you it wasn’t worth it.”

“I was so _sure_ it was Crabbe,” said Ron, ignoring Draco.

“What’s that?” asked Harry, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione’s pillow.

“Just a get well card,” said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:

 _“To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of_ Witch Weekly’s _Most-Charming-Smile Award.”_

Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted.

“You sleep with this under your _pillow?_ ”

But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.

“Is Lockhart the smarmiest block you’ve ever met, or what?” Ron said to them as they left the infirmary and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. Snape had given them so much homework. Harry and Ron had convinced Sarah and Draco to help them with it, considering that Hermione was in the hospital wing. Ron had just asked about how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair-Raising Potion when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.

“That’s Filch,” Harry muttered as they hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.

“You don’t think someone else’s been attacked?” said Draco tensely.

They stood still, their heads inclined toward Filch’s voice, which sounded quite hysterical.

“ – _even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven’t got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I’m going to Dumbledore – “_

His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and they heard a distant door slam.

They poked their heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: They were once again on the spot where Mrs Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, they could hear Myrtle’s wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

“ _Now_ what’s up with her?” said Sarah.

“Let’s go and see,” said Harry, and holding their robes over their ankles they stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign, ignored it as always, and entered.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

“What’s up, Myrtle?” said Harry.

“Who’s that?” glugged Myrtle miserably. “Come to throw something else at me?”

Harry waded across to her stall and said, “Why would I throw something at you?”

“Don’t ask me,” Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. Sarah and Draco drew back quickly, more than happy to let Harry deal with the emotional ghost. “Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me…”

“But it can’t hurt you if someone throws something at you,” said Harry, reasonably. “I mean, it’d just go right through you, wouldn’t it?”

He had said the wrong thing. Sarah groaned lowly as Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, “Let’s all throw books at Myrtle because _she_ can’t feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I _don’t_ think!”

“Who threw it at you, anyway?” Sarah said quickly, hoping to get information and then get out.

“ _I_ don’t know…I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head,” said Myrtle, glaring at them. “It’s over there, it got washed out…”

The four of them looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Harry stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to hold him back.

“What?” said Harry.

“Are you crazy?” said Ron. “It could be dangerous.”

“ _Dangerous_?” said Harry, laughing. “Come off it, how could it be dangerous?”

“Ron’s right,” Draco said, watching the book warily. “Lots of the books in the Manor library attack people when opened incorrectly, some even place curses upon the reader – Mother would never let Sarah and I wander alone until we were old enough to understand which sections were off-limits.”

The little book lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy.

“Well, we won’t find out unless we look at it,” Harry said, and he ducked around Ron and picked it up off the floor despite their warning shouts.

Sarah, Draco and Ron waited apprehensively for something to happen, relaxing only slightly when nothing untoward occurred.

“It’s a diary,” Harry stated, drawing closer to the other three and opening it eagerly to the first page. The name “T. M. Riddle” in smudged ink could just be made out.

“Hang on,” said Ron. “I know that name…T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago.”

“How on earth do you know that?” said Sarah in amazement.

“Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention,” said Ron resentfully. “That was the one I burped slugs all over. If you’d wiped slime off a name for an hour, you’d remember it, too.”

Harry peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank.

“He never wrote in it,” said Harry, disappointed.

“Not necessarily,” Sarah opposed. “Magical diaries sometimes have the ability to only be read by the owner, or you may need a spell to unlock the entries – it’s a safety measure.”

“I wonder why someone wanted to flush it away?” said Draco curiously.

Harry turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.

“It’s muggle,” Sarah said in surprise. “That must mean whoever owned it was probably a half-blood or muggle-born.”

“Or a pureblood who liked muggle products,” Harry suggested.

“True, but unlikely,” Draco countered. “If a pureblood wanted to keep a diary, they’d make sure it was a magical one to protect their secrets.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ron said succinctly. “It’s not much use to us. We should just leave it where it is.”

Harry, however, pocketed it.

“Harry, I really don’t think you should keep it,” Sarah urged.

“It may be useful!” he argued.

Sarah glanced at Draco quickly before turning back to Harry. “Fine,” she acquiesced. “But promise me you won’t write in it.”

“Why not?” he asked. “It’s just a book.”

“There’s a reason someone threw it away,” Sarah reasoned. “And why would anyone have any cause for holding onto a diary that’s fifty years old? It doesn’t make sense and I don’t trust it. Don’t write in it, _please_.”

“Okay, fine. I won’t,” Harry promised begrudgingly.

***

Hermione left the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less, and fur-free, at the beginning of February. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry showed her the diary and told her the story of how they had found it.

“I agree with Sarah,” Hermione stated. “I wouldn’t trust it, even if it _is_ muggle made.”

“ _Thank you_ , Hermione,” Sarah said. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re back. Draco and I were just popping in to say hello before going to the library. We’ll see you all tomorrow.”

As Sarah and Draco left the Gryffindor common room, they could hear Harry, Ron, and Hermione discussing T. M. Riddle.

“Do you have Harry’s cloak?” Draco asked as they drew closer to the library.

“Yep,” Sarah said, opening her robes to show him the cloak stuffed into the inside pocket. “I asked to borrow it at dinner. He was confused but agreed.”

“I hope we can find something in the Restricted section,” Draco sighed. “I don’t really feel like writing to Mother about this.”

They calmly walked toward the dark shelves tucked into the back of the library before donning the cloak away from watching eyes. The crept silently into the Restricted section and breathed a sigh of relief when they were safely hidden in the shelves.

“Okay,” Sarah whispered. “Don’t forget the revealing spell your Mother taught us for the Manor’s books. I don’t want anything giving us away.”

Draco nodded silently and the pair began to walk slowly down the aisle, back to back, carefully reading the titles of the gruesome tomes.

“Remind me to never do this again,” Draco shuddered, waving his wand over a book titled _Ritualistic Summonings: Human Sacrifice and Necromancy_. “I don’t even understand why some of this stuff is in the library.”

“I bet it’s useful for independent study,” Sarah muttered, grimacing at the horrific illustration in the book she was perusing. “What we really need is something about obscure magical creatures.”

They continued looking until they found a _Magical Creatures_ section. It was extremely different from the one in the general library: Instead of information about Hippogriffs, Unicorns, or Bowtruckles, there were books on Lethifolds, Golems, Strix, any horrific creature from a variety of countries and beliefs.

“I think we should start with this one,” Sarah whispered. She carefully waved her wand over a large, leather-bound book to ensure there was nothing sinister about it. Once sure, she pulled it off the shelf, dropping to the ground with Draco to examine it.

Inside was an alphabetical list of creatures and their descriptions. It was about five inches thick from cover to cover and was filled with minuscule writing.

“This is going to take us forever,” Draco groaned. “It’s not even split into categories.”

“Well, no time like the present, I guess,” Sarah said, standing again and hoisting the book comfortably into her arms. “Let’s get back to the common room.”

***

The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again, although Sarah was missing the calming nature of the snowfall. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

“The moment their acne clears up, they’ll be ready for repotting again,” Sarah heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. “And after that, it won’t be too long until we’re cutting them up and stewing them. You’ll have Mrs Norris back in no time.”

Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. Sarah overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the Slytherins were lining up for Transfiguration.

“I don’t think there’ll be any more trouble, Minerva,” he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. “I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him.”

“The only way _he_ would’ve come down hard on him is by finally succumbing to the weight of his ego and falling down the stairs,” Sarah muttered harshly, loud enough that the surrounding students could hear her, causing them to quickly smother their laughter or scoffs. Sarah swore she saw Professor McGonagall’s lip twitch upward slightly.

Lockhart continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won’t say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing…”

He tapped his nose again and strode off.

“You know, Draco,” said Sarah loudly. “I don’t even think your Father’s peacocks are half as pompous as that plonker is.”

Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Theo burst into laughter while McGonagall raised an eyebrow at them.

“That’s enough, now,” she said curtly, striding into the classroom.

Lockhart’s idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. Sarah and Draco hadn’t had much sleep because of a late-running Quidditch practice the night before and an unfinished Potions essay, and they hurried up to the Great Hall, slightly late. Sarah thought, for a moment, that they’d walked through the wrong doors.

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. The pair walked over to the Slytherin table in a daze.

“What did they do to our hall?” Sarah cried as she threw herself into a seat opposite Blaise.

He pointed to the teachers’ table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where she sat, Sarah could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall’s cheek. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all – and it doesn’t end here!”

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” beamed Lockhart. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop there! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

Draco, being the little shit he was, called out to Snape loudly.

“Professor, if we successfully brew a Love Potion, can you take us out of Defense classes for the remainder of the week? We wouldn’t want to utilize your incredible skills without a proper incentive.”

The Slytherins snickered as Snape stared down at Draco, his lip twitching slightly.

“Be quiet, Mr Malfoy. What we wouldn’t want, would be to limit your defence skills any more,” Snape drawled, causing Draco to smirk widely before turning back to his breakfast.

“Draco, you shit!” Pansy laughed, leaning over the table to punch Draco lightly on the bicep.

“Be my Valentine,” Sarah trilled at Draco, holding a confetti heart and fluttering her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

“Oh,” Draco swooned dramatically, “I never thought you’d ask.”

Their group burst into laughter as Sarah threw her arms around Draco’s neck and planted a big, slopping kiss on his cheek. He barked a laugh and pushed her away, rubbing at his cheek in disgust.

“Did you have to make it so gross?” he teased.

“Only the best for you, my love,” she replied.

All-day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers. Sarah, Draco, Ron, Harry and Hermione were walking upstairs for Charms after their Herbology class – where a dwarf had arrived and performed a valentine for Sarah, to her eternal embarrassment and to Ron and Draco’s great delight – when one of the dwarfs caught up with Harry.

“Oi, you! ‘Arry Potter!” shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.

Harry turned a bright red and turned to escape, but the corridor was blocked by a line of first years. The dwarf cut his way through the crowd by kicking people’s shins and reached Harry before he’d gone two paces.

“I’ve got a musical message to deliver to ‘Arry Potter in person,” he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

Ron began to guffaw loudly, clutching at his sides.

“ _Not here_ ,” Harry hissed, trying to escape. Sarah held out her hand to help pull him through the crowd and he reached for it.

“Stay _still_!” grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry’s bag and pulling him back.

“Let me go!” Harry snarled, tugging.

With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilt onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.

Harry, Sarah, Draco and Hermione scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.

“What’s going on here?” came the cold, drawling voice of Vincent Crabbe. Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag with the help of the others.

“What’s all this commotion?” said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.

Losing his head, Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.

“Right,” he said, sitting on Harry’s ankles. He swatted Sarah and Draco with his harp as they tried to pull him off Harry. “Here is your singing valentine:

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,  
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.  
I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,  
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”_

Sarah felt so bad for Harry as he valiantly tried to laugh along with everyone else. She and Draco helped him to his feet and Sarah stuffed most of his stuff into her bag, as Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth, including Ron.

“Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now,” he said, shooing some of the younger students away. “ _And_ you, Crabbe – “

Sarah, glancing over, saw Crabbe stoop and snatch up something. Leering, he showed it to Goyle, and Sarah realised that he’d got Riddle’s diary.

“Give that back,” said Harry quietly.

“Wonder what Potter’s written in this?” said Crabbe, who obviously hadn’t noticed the year on the cover and thought he had Harry’s own diary. A hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was staring from the diary to Harry, looking terrified.

“Hand it over, Crabbe,” said Percy sternly.

“When I’ve had a look,” said Crabbe, waving the diary tauntingly at Harry.

Percy said, “As a school prefect – “ but Harry lost his temper. He pulled out his wand and shouted, “ _Expelliarmus!”_ and just as Snape had Disarmed Lockhart, so Crabbe found the diary shooting out of his hand into the air. Draco, grinning broadly, caught it.

“Harry!” said Percy loudly. “No magic in the corridors. I’ll have to report this, you know!”

Crabbe was looking furious, and as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after her, “I don’t think Potter liked your valentine much!”

Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Snarling, Ron pulled out his wand, too, but Harry pulled him away. The grin on Draco’s face had dropped entirely. Sarah sighed quietly and led the way to class.


	9. Chapter Nine

“It was Hagrid. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.”

Harry’s announcement made Sarah pause with her fork poised in front of her mouth. He had dropped unexpectedly into the seat opposite Sarah and Draco at the Slytherin table the next morning at breakfast.

“I beg your pardon?” she said.

“Hagrid. He opened the Chamber and was expelled for it,” Harry explained.

She stared at him, still trying to recover his surprise appearance. “And how do you know this?” she asked incredulously.

Harry blushed before quickly explaining how he had noticed that the diary was unaffected by the ink spill yesterday afternoon and that he had decided to test it out last night.

“And you thought it was a smart idea to _write_ to it!” Sarah hissed.

“Well, yeah…” he shrugged. “It showed me what I needed to know.”

“ _Showed_?”

“Er – it kinda sucked me into – I don’t even know what it was, truthfully. I think it was a memory,” he rambled.

Sarah stared at the dark-haired boy in shocked silence until he started to fidget. She suddenly dropped her fork and reached over the table, smacking him roughly on the head.

“Are you a _complete_ idiot! Sacré bleu! Tu es tellement stupide! I cannot _believe_ you, you _imbecile_!” Sarah shouted, ignoring the looks she got. “You let a magical book _draw you in_ and _show_ you a memory! Do you have any idea how _stupid_ that was? _Putain d’enfer_!”

“Er…sorry?” Harry said, smiling weakly and rubbing the back of his neck.

Sarah continued to rant in a mix of English and French for a few minutes before she lost steam, slumping back in her seat angrily.

“Do you have anything you want to add, Draco?” she asked the blond beside her, who had remained silent for the entire conversation.

He looked up with a bored expression, barely gracing Harry with a passing glance before shaking his head. “No, I believe you said it all.”

“I think it’s interesting how you switch between French and English when you’re mad,” Harry observed.

“That is _not_ the point!” Sarah snapped. “Tell me you got rid of that book or at least gave it to a teacher!”

“Er…”

“ _POTTER_!”

***

Once Sarah had calmed down, she allowed Harry to explain his, Ron’s and Hermione’s theory.

“Just because Hagrid has a penchant for dangerous creatures, doesn’t mean he’s the one causing the attacks,” Sarah argued. “Besides, he can’t even speak Parseltongue!”

“He might have accidentally left something – wait, what does that have to do with anything?” Harry asked, surprise lighting his face.

“Draco and I think that the monster must be some sort of serpent,” Sarah explained. “It would make sense considering that Slytherin was a Parseltongue and so far, only you have heard a voice before an attack.”

“Wow, that’s actually pretty smart,” Harry said, impressed.

“Yes, Potter,” Draco drawled. “Believe it or not, we are actually intelligent.”

Sarah glanced at Draco in shock as Harry blinked once.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, confused hurt painting his face. “I know you guys are really smart...”

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Draco said, standing up from the table. “We have to get to class.”

Without waiting for them, he strode away, his blond hair shining in the morning light.

“What’s wrong with him?” Harry asked in a worried tone.

Sarah shook her head slowly, still watching her best friend walk away. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “But he’s right – we’re going to be late.”

***

Draco remained in a grouchy mood for the rest of the day. He snapped at them all for little things and opted to work alone in the library instead of discussing what they would do about confronting Hagrid. In the end, they decided they would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack.

Once dinner ended, Sarah dragged Draco away from the Slytherin table and didn’t stop until they had reached her dormitory.

“Okay, spill,” she said, throwing Draco onto her bed and standing in front of him with her arms crossed.

“Spill what?” he retorted, avoiding eye contact.

“You’ve been in a pissy mood all day and I want answers. Did we do something?” Sarah pressed.

“Can’t I just be in a bad mood?” he snapped. “Or am I only allowed to be happy-go-lucky all the time?”

“Oh piss off, you know that’s not true,” Sarah hissed angrily. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong!”

“Then why have you been biting all our heads off, all day?”

“I’m just tired!”

“Bullshit!”

“Screw you, Sarah. You can’t fix everything!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means just leave me alone!”

“No! You’re my best friend and you’ve been down since yesterday – “

Sarah cut off abruptly and stared down at her best friend. His face was pink from anger and he was breathing heavily.

She said in a much softer tone. “Is this about the valentine yesterday?”

Draco grimaced before crumbling before her. She quickly sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders as he sighed heavily.

“I don’t why,” he muttered. “It just made me so _angry_.” He turned bright, storm-cloud eyes toward Sarah. “I don’t know why I feel like this but I’ve just been so upset all day.”

Sarah sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Draco, I think we both know why you’re feeling this way…”

Draco shook his head quickly. “No – definitely not.”

“You can’t avoid it – “

“Yes, I can. Watch me.”

“Draco…”

“Sarah, that’s not why. No way,” Draco pulled back slightly. “I’m just having an off day. It probably wasn’t even the valentine itself, just everything about the day. I’m sorry I’ve been horrid to you all day.”

Sarah watched him with sad eyes. “It’s okay, love. If you’re not ready to talk about it, I won’t push it.”

Draco sagged slightly but quickly recovered himself.

“I think I just need some sleep,” he said decisively. He stood up and pressed a soft kiss to Sarah’s forehead. “Goodnight, Sarah.”

“Goodnight, Draco,” she said quietly as he walked from the room.

The door had barely closed behind him when it swung open again and Pansy walked in.

“Is he okay now? What was his problem?” she asked, shrugging off her robes and beginning to change into her pyjamas.

Sarah just shook her head sadly. “He’s repressing his feelings. Doesn’t want to admit what’s actually going on.”

Pansy winced and paused in her movements.

“What are you going to do?”

The question hung in the air for a few minutes before Sarah answered softly, “The only thing I can do, Pans. Support him and help him through it.” She turned to the dark-haired girl. “I thought we had figured this out before we came to Hogwarts but I guess I was wrong.”

“It’ll be okay, Sarah,” Pansy reassured. “He’s strong _and_ smart. He’ll figure it out soon.”

Sarah hummed noncommittally before getting ready for bed, a thousand thoughts clouding her mind.

***

Draco was in a much better mood the next day. He apologised to everyone for his treatment of them and steadfastly ignored the concerned looks that Sarah and Harry sent his way. Sarah decided to drop the issue, for now, knowing that Draco was just as stubborn as her and would not let her broach the subject again.

The second years were given something new to think about during their Easter holidays, effectively dragging Sarah’s attention to more important issues. The time had come to choose their subjects for the third years, a matter that Hermione, Draco and Sarah took very seriously.

“It could affect our whole future,” Hermione told Harry and Ron as the five of them poured over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.

“I just want to give up Potions,” said Harry. He grunted as Draco flicked his ear.

“Don’t be stupid, Harry. Potions is really important for nearly every career,” Draco said, making another mark on his list.

“Besides, we can’t,” Ron said gloomily. “We keep all our old subjects, or I’d’ve ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“But that’s very important!” said Hermione, shocked.

“Not the way Lockhart teaches it,” said Ron. “I haven’t learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose.”

“The problem I’m having,” Sarah said tiredly, “is that there are too many subjects that sound interesting and not enough space.”

Ron looked at her aghast.

“Oh Merlin, not another one,” he muttered in horror, blue eyes wide.

Sarah rolled her eyes at him.

“What have you chosen then?” she asked, grabbing his list. “Only Care of Magical Creatures and Divination? That’s pathetic, Ronald.”

Ron snatched back his paper. “Well, excuse me for not being as much as a swot as you three are. Besides, Charlie really enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures and Percy recommended Divination and Muggle Studies. I know I’d be pants at Muggle Studies, hence, Divination.”

“Ron, that’s all the more reason to do Muggle Studies,” Sarah argued. “You could learn something important!”

“What are you doing, anyway?” Ron asked her.

“Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures. I also want to try the Ancient Studies extra-curricular but I need to make sure that Quidditch won’t clash with it,” said Sarah, reading off her list.

Ron stared at her in shock. “That’s crazy! That’s eleven subjects!”

“Well, yes, but they’ll be useful and interesting,” Sarah reasoned. “Anyway, Draco’s doing the same but with Arithmancy instead of Ancient Studies and Hermione is doing all the electives!”

“You’re all crazy,” Ron announced. He turned to Harry with pleading eyes. “Harry, please tell me you’re not mad like them!”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I’m just doing the same ones as you, mate.”

Hermione tried to argue with them but to no avail.

“Hermione, let it go,” Sarah said. “It’s their choice.”

Hermione begrudgingly let it go.

***

The day of the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match dawned bright and sunny.

“Perfect Quidditch conditions!” said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team’s plates with scrambled eggs. Sarah and Draco watched in amusement as Harry struggled to eat through the sheer amount of food being piled in front of him. Sarah took pity on him and scraped a bit of it onto Draco’s plate.

Harry had told them that someone had stolen Riddle’s diary from his room the night before. Hermione had been urging him to report the robbery but Harry adamantly refused. Sarah told Draco that they should keep researching after the game to see if they could find anything.

As they left the Great Hall to collect Harry’s Quidditch gear, Harry suddenly stopped dead, his face paling dramatically.

“Harry…?” Sarah asked hesitantly.

His eyes snapped to hers. “The voice!” he said, looking over his shoulder. “I just heard it again – didn’t you?”

Sarah shook her head and looked at Draco. He nodded in confirmation. They were right in their theory that it was a snake of some sort.

Hermione suddenly gasped and Sarah knew she had figured it out.

“Harry – I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!”

“Hermione – wait!” Sarah called before Hermione could sprint away. “I’ll come with you.”

The girls ran down the corridor a bit before Sarah stopped Hermione.

“Listen,” she said, panting slightly. “Draco and I have been researching for months. We think it’s a snake of some sort and that it’s travelling through the pipes. We just haven’t been able to find what _type_ of snake.”

“And you’ve checked the library?” Hermione asked.

Sarah nodded. “We even used Harry’s Invisibility Cloak to go into the Restricted section.”

“And you haven’t found anything?”

“No, we’ve checked every – wait! I forgot. I have a book in my dorm that I got out of the Restricted section. Draco and I have only gotten so far through it but you and I can look through it now,” Sarah said.

“Okay,” Hermione nodded. “You go get that and I’ll check the library one more time. Meet me there.”

Sarah nodded and quickly hurried toward the dungeons. She rummaged through her trunk until her hand found the thick cover of the enormous book. She heaved it out of her trunk and began the long trek back up the library, thumbing through the pages as she walked.

Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks. So far, Draco and she had only managed to get through the first half of the ‘A’ section but now her finger was hovering over a page in the ‘B’ section. She scanned the page in excitement as she began walking again and nearly fell over as she reached the stairs.

**_The Basilisk_ ** _._

_According to most European bestiaries, this legendary reptile is known as the ‘Serpent King’ and can cause death from a single glance. In Greek Mythology, it was usually described as a minuscule, crowned reptile that spat poison and left a trail of venom in its wake. Despite solid evidence, much debate surrounds whether or not the Basilisk can cause death from its stare, as no one has ever encountered a Basilisk head-on and lived to tell the tale. It has been rumoured that the cry of a rooster is fatal to this dreaded creature and that it can live for thousands of years after hatching. The basilisk is alleged to be hatched by a cockerel from the egg of a serpent or toad. Spiders have been known to flee from a Basilisk’s lair. Basilisk venom has no known antidote but it has been inferred that –_

Sarah cut off reading suddenly as she bumped into something in front of her. She dropped the large tome and immediately reached out to steady the person before her.

“Ginny?”

Sarah stared in shock at the appearance of the young girl.

“Oh, Merlin, are you okay?” The redhead's face was as white as parchment and she was shaking uncontrollably.

“I-I-I’m f-f-f-f-fine,” Ginny said weakly, trying to pull away from Sarah’s hands.

“No, you are not!” Sarah said firmly, tightening her grip. “What happened to you?”

Ginny just shook her head. Tears began to stream from her brown eyes. No matter how firm Sarah’s hold on the smaller girl was, she couldn’t stop her trembling.

It was then that she noticed the thin, shabby black diary clutched in a death grip in Ginny’s freckled hand.

Sarah felt her face pale slightly as the realisation hit her.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.

Ginny sobbed loudly and collapsed to the ground.

“I didn’t mean to – I di-didn’t mean to!” she wailed.

“It’s okay, Ginny. It’s okay, I know you wouldn’t do this on purpose,” Sarah assured, rubbing soothing circles on the other girl’s back. “But I need you to tell me what happened so we can go to Dumbledore.”

Ginny shook violently.

“I didn’t mean to – not today – not ever – “

Sarah’s heart skipped a beat.

“Ginny,” she said urgently. “Was there another attack today? Where? Who?”

Ginny just continued to shake.

“Come on,” Sarah urged. “We need to get you to Dumbledore.”

Suddenly, the small body stopped shaking, falling still beneath Sarah’s grip. She sat back slightly as Ginny turned her face up to look at Sarah. Sarah stifled a gasp as she took in Ginny’s blank, red-tinted stare.

“I don’t think so, young Deaumont.”

The voice that came out of Ginny’s mouth was male and distorted. Sarah flinched back in shock, releasing Ginny.

“You know too much,” the horrid voice continued. “It wasn’t my plan to hurt a pureblood but fortunately, your blood is so traitorous – a real pureblood would not be associating with mudbloods and half-breeds.”

Sarah shivered in fear as she stood up and began to back away from Ginny’s body, which had begun to move seemingly of its own accord.

“I think it’s time you met my pet,” the voice hissed a series of syllables in Parseltongue and Sarah felt her blood freeze in her veins.

The corridor she was a shortcut to the library from the dungeons. No doors lined the walls, only stain-glass windows which reflected the tapestries on the opposite wall.

 _Reflected_.

Sarah spun around and stared defiantly at the glass, watching her own terrified reflection as Ginny’s body began to walk the other way, away from a smooth, slithering noise that was growing louder and louder each second. Sarah couldn’t have run even if her body allowed her. She shut her eyes tightly. Her best bet was to avoid direct eye contact with the beast. She may have a chance to survive that way – unless the voice decided that she wasn’t worth the effort of petrifying.

She took a deep breath as the giant snake got close enough for her to feel its hot breath on the back of her neck. Deciding that petrification was more preferable than a venomous bite, Sarah opened her eyes wide and stared directly into the reflection of bright, yellow eyes above her.

Then all that surrounded her was darkness.


	10. Chapter Ten

Sarah groaned as something vile was poured down her throat. She had only gained consciousness for a moment before the concoction was forced into her mouth.

“Drink,” a loud voice commanded above her.

She spluttered but obeyed, straining to blink open her eyes.

“This too.” Another vial was pressed to her lips and she opened her lips, gagging as the thick liquid slid down her throat. It was a relief to drink the water that was next pressed to her mouth and she greedily gulped it down.

Awareness came to her slowly.

The first thing she noticed was that her limbs felt incredibly stiff. She groaned as she tried to wiggle her toes and fingers. The next thing she noticed was that she was in the hospital wing, if the antiseptic smell was anything to go by.

Sarah used all her force of will to pry her eyelids open, blinking groggily at the bright light surrounding her.

“Good girl, you’ll be fine,” another voice sounded to her left and she turned her head slightly to see Madam Pomfrey hovering over her, wand held aloft. “You were the last one administered the potion,” the matron continued. “It took longer to work than the others. Professor Snape and I were beginning to worry.”

Sarah only groaned in reply and turned her head back until she was staring straight up at the ceiling. Silver spots were dancing in her vision.

“Drink this, Miss Deaumont. It will help with the disorientation,” the first voice had returned and Sarah realised it was Professor Snape. He was holding out another vial and she struggled to raise her arm enough to grab it. He sighed slightly before supporting her hand to help her swallow the next potion.

Immediately, her head cleared and she gasped in a great lungful of air, lurching forward into Madam Pomfrey’s waiting arms.

“Lie back,” she muttered. “That’s a good girl.”

“How – long – ?” Sarah croaked, accepting another glass of water and sipping slowly.

“Just over a month,” Madam Pomfrey replied. “The Mandrakes were finally ready today and we’ve been treating all the patients.”

Sarah was about to ask another question when her view was suddenly blocked by a large cloud of brown curls.

“Oh, Sarah! I was so worried!”

“Hermione?”

“Miss Granger, please release her. She’s still recovering. You should still be in bed as well!” Madam Pomfrey snapped, trying to steer the other girl back to bed. Hermione, however, just jumped on Sarah’s bed and settled down.

“Look, I’m in bed,” she said, glaring at Madam Pomfrey. “She needs an explanation and this way, you can keep treating patients.”

Madam Pomfrey and Hermione battled it out silently before Madam Pomfrey caved.

“Okay, fine! But I want you both resting until I release you. No arguments!”

The matron stormed off muttering under her breath as Sarah turned to look at Hermione in question.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Sarah asked. “You were attacked the day of the match as well,” she clarified at Hermione’s confused expression.

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed. “I was at the library waiting for you when I heard someone hissing nearby. Penelope Clearwater – she’s a Prefect – was near me so I told her to be quiet and to keep an eye out for anything strange. Luckily, when we saw the snake, it was in the reflection of the mirror Madam Pince has near her desk. I woke up about an hour ago. I was so worried when you didn’t react to the potion the same was I did.”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, wincing slightly as blood began to flow more freely through her limbs.

“Well, everyone seemed to wake up immediately,” Hermione explained. “But it took you two doses and a bunch of other potions before you even began to stir.”

“Must be why my mouth tastes like a sewer,” Sarah complained, reaching for the water jug again. “I can’t believe that we’ve been out of it for a month. What do you think happened to the others?”

“No idea, we haven’t been allowed any visitors yet,” said Hermione. “Apparently, after our attacks, they closed off the hospital wing – didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Oh, Draco must be so worried,” Sarah groaned. “He’s never going to let me out of his sight again.”

Hermione laughed briefly. “Probably. From what I’ve heard, they find out a few hours after finding me and Penelope. Snape was on his way back to the dungeons from the hospital wing when he stumbled upon you in an empty corridor. He immediately alerted the other Professors. They were freaking out because you were attacked in a completely different location. But the attacks have stopped now – Professor McGonagall was here about twenty minutes ago and said that the culprit had been apprehended.”

“It was Ginny,” Sarah said softly, glancing around to make sure no one was paying any attention to them.

“ _What_?” Hermione gasped in surprise.

“I had found the creature – it was a Basilisk – and as I was walking back to you, I bumped into her. She was pale and shaking and absolutely terrified and then I saw her clutching Riddle’s diary. That’s when I realised it was her. She was distraught and I told her we were going to go to Dumbledore. But she suddenly changed – it was like something was possessing her. Then the Basilisk was called and I was trapped. The only thing I could do was make sure I looked at its reflection and not directly. That’s all I remember.”

“Oh, Sarah, that’s horrible. I hope she’s okay,” Hermione murmured, hands covering her face slightly.

“Me too,” she agreed. “I just want to get out of here and give Draco a big hug.”

“Well, you’ll like this news then, Miss Deaumont.”

Madam Pomfrey had returned and was smiling broadly at the two girls.

“I’ve completed all my tests and everyone is free to go,” the matron said kindly. “All the students are in the Great Hall for dinner – don’t worry about changing.” She walked off, leaving the pair sitting in confused silence.

Sarah shrugged and slid off the bed, stretching her muscles. Someone had dressed her in her favourite pyjamas and she had on one of Draco’s jumpers.

“Let’s go find our boys,” Sarah suggested.

Hermione nodded and linked her arm through Sarah’s, following the small group of un-petrified students toward the Great Hall.

A cacophony of noise greeted them as they pushed the doors open. The entire school was sat at their House tables in their pyjamas. Sarah scanned the Slytherin table and then the Gryffindor table, looking for a platinum blond head. She finally found it situated next to Harry’s dark mop of hair at the Gryffindor table and she and Hermione began to make their way toward the trio of boys.

Before they had gone two steps, Draco’s head shot up and he made eye contact with Sarah. Immediately, he jumped to his feet and raced toward her. She met him halfway as he gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly to him as he pressed his face into his neck.

“I was so _worried_ ,” he sobbed. “Snape and I found you and we didn’t know how long you had been lying there – you looked _dead_.”

Sarah hugged her best friend tighter as she felt tears gather in her eyes.

“I’m okay now,” she promised.

Draco took a deep breath and pulled back, smiling a teary smile at her before resuming his previous position. They remained locked that way until Sarah felt a hand rest on her shoulder. She released Draco and turned to find Harry beaming up at her. She grinned in return and threw her arms around the other boy, holding him tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered in her ear.

Sarah released him before turning to Ron, who gave her an equally tight hug. Draco put his arm around her waist once Ron released her and held tightly as they made their way to the Gryffindor table. Sarah saw that Ron had an arm around Hermione’s shoulder, as if making sure she was still there. Sarah looked around to see the other victims greeting their friends with equal enthusiasm as she sat comfortably next to Draco, who stubbornly refused to release her.

A flash of red in her peripheral made Sarah turn around. Ginny was standing behind her, looking worried but relieved.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry – “

Sarah didn’t let her finish. She grabbed the smaller girl into a tight hug and whispered, “It wasn’t your fault, Ginny. Please don’t blame yourself. Everyone’s okay.”

Ginny nodded, tears escaping the corner of her eyes. She turned toward Hermione, who didn’t let her apologise either but beamed at the younger girl.

Sarah settled against Draco’s side with Harry sitting on her other side, his hand wrapped tightly around her own. She smiled in exasperation at Hermione, who shook her head in amusement.

It was by far, the oddest feast Sarah had ever been too. Aside from the fact that everyone was in their pyjamas, Harry, Ron and Draco also explained how they had figured out where the Chamber of Secrets was hidden and how they had gone down there after Ginny was taken into it. Sarah and Hermione listened in horror as they described how they had taken Lockhart with them, who had then tried to erase their memories using Ron’s wand and had instead erased his own. Sarah gripped Harry’s hand tighter as he recounted his discussion with a memory of Voldemort, who had been embedded in the diary and feeding off Ginny’s energy, and his resulting battle with the Basilisk.

“Oh and guess what?” he said in excitement. “I managed to free Dobby from Mr Malfoy. I gave him a sock.”

“Mr Malfoy? What does Draco’s father have to do with this?” Sarah asked, glancing at the blond in question.

He sighed slightly and said flatly, “My father apparently was the one to give Ginny the diary.” Sarah blinked in surprise. “It was at Flourish and Blotts,” he explained. “When we saw your father as well.”

Sarah grimaced at the reminder. She knew she would have to go back to her Manor when the term ended and she was dreading it.

“Wait, so let me get this clear,” Hermione said. “T. M. Riddle was Tom Marvolo Riddle, who was _Voldemort_?”

“Yep,” Harry confirmed.

“Oh,” Hermione said weakly. “That’s horrible, actually.”

“I still can’t believe you fought the Basilisk with a sword – a bloody _sword_!” Sarah said in awe. “If you keep doing things like this, Harry, I might just start a fan club for you.”

Sarah laughed as Harry’s face blushed bright red.

“That won’t be necessary…” he muttered.

The feast continued throughout the rest of the night. A big surprise was Hagrid walking through the doors at three-thirty, recently released from Azkaban, the wizarding prison. Harry had explained that Draco’s father had gotten Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, involved to arrest Hagrid and remove Dumbledore as Headmaster. Thankfully, both were back in their rightful positions.

Professor McGonagall stood up at one point to announce that exams were cancelled for the year, a fact that Harry and Ron were very grateful for and one that Hermione and Draco were upset about (“But I put so much effort into my study notes,” Draco complained). Dumbledore also gave Harry, Ron and Draco two hundred points each, effectively ensuring Gryffindor the House Cup.

“We were so freaking close this year,” Draco complained. His two hundred points had put them in second place. “Dumbledore is a biased git sometimes.”

Dumbledore also announced that Lockhart would not be returning next year to teach, as he had to get his memory back. Several teachers joined in the cheering that greeted this news.

“Shame,” said Ron, helping himself to a jam doughnut. “He was starting to grow on me.”

***

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blinding sunshine. Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few, small differences. Defense Against the Dark Arts classes was cancelled (“but we’ve had plenty of practice at that anyway,” Ron told a disgruntled Hermione) and Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor. Draco was happy about this but was also slightly nervous about his father’s reaction when he got home (“You’ll be fine love,” Sarah assured him. “Narcissa will kick his arse before he touches one hair on your perfect head”). Crabbe was walking around moodily, glaring at Hermione and Sarah particularly venomously, disappointed that the Basilisk hadn’t managed to off them when it had the chance. On the other hand, Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again.

Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Sarah and Draco had chosen a compartment with Blaise, Pansy, Theo and Millicent, giving the Slytherins a chance to catch up.

“Mate, you better never scare me like that again,” Millicent warned Sarah as she bit a chocolate frog’s head off. “If you do, I’ll make sure petrification is the least of your worries.”

Sarah laughed heartily. “Millie, right now my only problem remains my father and his fanatic views.”

A brief silence followed her words as they all thought of the implications.

“I really don’t want you going back there alone,” Draco finally said, shifting so that he could look up at her properly from his position with his head resting in her lap.

“I know babe,” Sarah replied, running a hand lightly throw his silky hair. “But I have too. I’ll be fine. If anything happens, I’ll get out of there and contact you – any of you,” she added, looking around the compartment at her worried friends.

“We’re still too young to be worrying about this sort of stuff,” Pansy huffed. “I mean, for Merlin’s sake, we’ve barely hit thirteen.”

“I was asleep for my birthday, does it still count?” Sarah voiced.

“Shut up, of course, it does,” Pansy sniffed. “Besides, we’ve already given you your gifts, we’re not getting you more.”

“And here I was thinking you actually loved me, Pans,” Sarah pouted.

“Greedy bint,” was the scoffed response.

“But you’re right,” Sarah said seriously, drawing the conversation back to the original point. “We are too young. Nonetheless, we’ve been dealt a shit hand and now we have to play.”

“We’ve got each other, though,” Theo said quietly from next to the window. “We can’t forget that.”

“You’re absolutely right, Theo,” Blaise agreed. “You bitches are stuck with us boys whether you like it or not.”

“Pfft,” Millicent scoffed. “As _if_. Blaise, we all know you’d be hopelessly lost without us holding your hand.”

Sarah and Pansy snickered at Blaise, who pouted and turned his dark eyes away in mock hurt.

“You wound me, Millie, truly,” he said.

Millicent ignored him and turned to Sarah.

“If it gets too much to deal with, come to my place,” she offered. “My mum’s muggle and will just want to make sure you’re okay. Dad doesn’t share the same thinking as your father – you’ll be safe.”

“Thanks, Mills,” Sarah said gratefully.

It was with a slightly heavy heart that Sarah said goodbye to her friends at the platform. Her father had been waiting alone and had beckoned her toward him when he saw her. Sarah raised her head high, refusing to let the nerves she felt take control. Draco gave her one last hug and kiss on the cheek before following his mother in the opposite direction.

Sarah took a deep breath and walked toward her father, hoping beyond hope that these holidays would not be as bad as she thought they would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are done! The third one is complete but the next few are probably going to take a while, so bear with me loves. I'll try to get the next one up within two weeks xx. Kudos are great if you please, and share it with friends! (If it doesn't suck that is)
> 
> Also! I need an opinion: should I kill Fred in Deathly Hallows?
> 
> I've been debating this for a while and want to hear what you guys think. Let me know in the comments your opinions and suggestions. And if anyone wants something included in the later books, chuck it down below and I'll see what I can do.


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